


Come to Light

by happylikeafool



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Baby Henry, Cancer, F/F, Slow Burn, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 108,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happylikeafool/pseuds/happylikeafool
Summary: Blindsided by a diagnosis that threatens the semblance of a life she’s built for herself, Emma suddenly finds herself a patient at the Boston Cancer Centre. There she meets volunteer Regina, the mayor of a nearby small town, who is waiting on an adoption that can’t come soon enough. They are simply two lonely people, crossing paths in the dark and maybe, just maybe, they'll be exactly what the other needs.





	1. Flashing Neon Signs

xxxxxx 

_And up in the distance, even in the dead of night_

_If we can make it to the morning, we can get things right_

_It's been a tough go lately, I hate choosing sides_

_What we do in the darkness will come to light, alright_

_And in time, the things that hurt today will begin to fade away_

_\- Come to Light, Arkells_

xxxxxx

Emma Swan was not the kind of person who went to the doctor. She did not get yearly physicals, or routine checkups of any kind, she certainly didn't have a GP, and, truthfully, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen a doctor. Yet, here she was, sitting in the waiting room of a walk in clinic. 

Her job was to blame. Not in the way she'd always assumed it would be - chasing a bail jumper leading to an injury that couldn't be addressed with a bag of frozen peas and a bottle of painkillers - but to blame nonetheless. She'd had a cough for weeks, a loud horrifying hacking sound. It sort of sounded like one or both of her lungs was trying to expel its way right out of her body. It was the kind of sound that drew instant attention from every stranger she crossed paths with - with looks ranging from disgust, surely thinking she was contagious and going to give them the plague, to extreme sympathy, clearing thinking she was seriously ill. Drawing that kind of attention to herself was not at all conducive to working in a job that required her to primarily observe and not be seen. So, here she was, waiting to see a doctor, even though she would rather be pretty much anywhere else.

She sat in that waiting room for an hour, nearly haven convinced herself to leave, or more like running out of ways to convince herself to stay,  when she was finally called into an exam room. 

She fidgeted while the doctor, a man old enough to be her grandfather, that was if she actually _had_ a grandfather, asked her questions, only stilling when he approached to listen to her lungs. His face gave nothing away as he listened carefully through the stethoscope, asking her to take deep breaths. He dropped the stethoscope back around his neck and she waited expectantly for him to speak but he said nothing, reaching forward to feel her neck instead.

“How long have you had this lump over your collarbone?” He finally broke the silence, his brow furrowed as he removed his hands.

Emma frowned, confused, the tips of her fingers reaching up instantly to ghost against the place his fingers had just been. Not that she was really sure what she was feeling for. “I-” she stuttered out, “I don't know.”

The doctor just nodded, the expression on his face serious, “Okay.” He pulled sheets of paper from cubby slots on the wall, hunching over the counter to scribble on them with a thick black pen.

Emma watched curiously, bringing the back of her arm up to cover her mouth, letting out the cough she'd been holding in, the force of it reverberating through her entire body.

After a minute the doctor straightened, holding the papers out for her to take, “We're going to do some blood work, a chest x-ray, and an ultrasound. Blood work can be done at the lab down the hall to the right, x-ray and ultrasound is across from the lab.”

Emma stared at the papers that had been shoved in her hands, stunned a moment. She'd come here to be told she'd picked up a bug that was going around, to be given a prescription and sent on her merry way, not for a slew of tests being ordered by a much too serious looking doctor. “Right now?” were the words that left her mouth when she finally found her voice. It wasn't exactly the question she actually wanted to ask, which was more along the line of, ‘what do you think is wrong?’ or maybe ‘do I have to?’

“Yes,” the doctor nodded, not looking any less serious, “Come back here when you've gotten them done.”

xxxxxx

Despite the pretty clear instructions on the location of the lab, which were further assisted by a large arrow pointing in its direction, Emma took a detour as she walked out of the clinic waiting room, veering in the opposite direction the arrow pointed and slipping into the public washroom. Glad to find the room empty, she walked over to the sink leaning on the counter as she studied herself in the mirror. She swallowed thickly. The lump, a lemon sized thing, resting above her collarbone on the left side seemed so obvious now. She reached up to poke at it. It didn't hurt, at all. She wasn't sure why that surprised her, but it did.

How had she missed this? Being observant was key to her livelihood and yet she’d missed this deformity literally staring back at her in the mirror. How long had it been there? Had it appeared over night or creeped up slowly over weeks?  A month? Certainly not longer than that, right? And what was it? A lump could be innocuous, right? Harmless. The serious expression on the doctor’s face hadn't actually meant something bad? Or had it?

She shook her head, trying to shake away her racing thoughts. She sighed, reaching forward and twisting the tap on so that she could splash cold water on her face.

xxxxxx

After blood work, the ultrasound, and the chest x-ray, as instructed, Emma returned to the clinic waiting room. Taking a seat in the corner, her knee bounced nervously up and down as people talked in hushed conversations around her. She picked at tape holding a piece of gauze in place in the crook of her arm. It hid the place that the needle had been inserted in to steal her blood, filling vial after vial until she lost count. Her knee bounced faster, her teeth biting down on her lip, gnawing on it, and then she couldn't take it anymore. Waiting was killing her. She didn't want to be here. She sprung from her seat and walked quickly over to the receptionist desk, rocking on the balls of her feet as she waited for the lady, who appeared to be in her late fifties, to look up. It didn't seem like the lady was _ever_ going to look up but then a fresh wave of coughing tore it's way out of Emma’s chest and blue eyes were instantly blinking in her direction.

“Umm…” Emma stammered when the receptionist shot her an expectant look, “I was just, uh, wondering if you could maybe call with the test results? Instead of me waiting here for them?”

The expectant look transformed into one verging on incredulous, punctuated by a slow quirked eyebrow. Based on the look, Emma expected to be chastised but when the receptionist spoke, all she asked was, “What's your name?”

“Emma Swan.”

The receptionist consulted her computer screen and then checked something on the counter. When she looked up, the incredulous expression on her face had been replaced with a blank one, her gaze no longer quite meeting Emma’s, which was a dead giveaway that something wasn't right. A sinking feeling settled in Emma’s stomach, like a stone, when the older woman spoke, still not looking her directly in the eye.

“You're next on the list to be called back into an exam room. It's really best if you wait to see the doctor.”

Emma swallowed, reaching up and running her hand through her long hair. Her eyes darted to the door, the option to just walk out still seeming viable, but then she sighed, her eyes turning back to the receptionist, “Yeah, okay.”

xxxxxx

Emma was back in the same exam room as before, waiting for the doctor. She could hear him talking in the room next door. It was muffled but she could still make words out. So much for medical privacy.

Her hand raked through her hair for probably the fiftieth time in the last few hours and her knee resumed it's bouncing, interrupted only by bouts of coughing, which shook her entire body and required her full focus.

After what felt like forever, the door to the exam room finally opened, and the doctor stepped in carrying what was presumably her chart. She eyed him carefully for some indication of what the tests had shown but his face remained schooled in the same serious expression as before. Perhaps that was just his natural expression.

The doctor cleared his throat, setting the chart down on the counter, “So, I'd like you to go for a CT scan. We've called the hospital and they can fit you in tomorrow at 7am. Will that work for you?”

Wait. What? Emma blinked rapidly as she tried to process this new information. He wanted her to do another test? “Why?” The question she'd wanted to ask earlier escaped now.

The doctor, whose name she should probably learn, suddenly looked uncomfortable and Emma didn't understand why. What was so difficult about answering that question? There must be a reason he wanted her to go for the test.

“Look,” he finally said, “I don't want to worry you. It's best if we get the CT scan done and then we can talk .”

Emma went rigid, a flare of stubborn indignation running through her, “No. Either tell me why. Or I'm not doing it.”

The doctor sighed but he nodded, “The ultrasound confirmed what I suspected, the lump is a swollen lymph node, which could just mean you have an infection of some kind, although your blood counts are normal. But the chest x-ray...it showed something. The CT scan will give us a better picture.”

Emma could tell that he was picking his words carefully. “Something?” she prompted, not willing to settle for that half answer. This doctor clearly suspected something, he must, otherwise why was he being so evasive? She coughed into the back of her arm again as she waited for an answer.

The doctor waited for her racking cough to subside before answering her question. He seemed more resigned now, as if he'd sorted out that he was going to have to tell her everything. “It showed what appears to be a mass in your mediastinum - that’s the space between your lungs.”

“A mass?” Emma repeated like a parrot, swallowing thickly. She was coughing not because she'd picked up some bug but because there was a mass nestled between her lungs? It didn't even sound real.

“It's likely another swollen lymph node, like the one above your collarbone.”

Emma opened and closed her mouth once, twice, a third time, before she found words, her forehead scrunched up in disbelief and confusion, “Is it an infection? That's what you said it could be, right?”

The doctor considered his response for a long moment, eyeing her with plainly obvious concern, “I don't want to speculate. I'd like to wait for further evidence. That's why it's important that you have this CT scan done. As soon as possible. Will the appointment tomorrow at 7am work for you?”

He was clearly trying to change the direction of the conversation but Emma wasn't having it. She didn't like being lied to, even if this wasn't so much a lie as an avoidance meant to protect her. “Please tell me what you think is wrong,” her voice was strained.

“Emma,” he said seriously, but the pleading look she shot him seemed to affect him because his resigned expression returned, and he answered, “There is a possibility that what we're dealing with here is Lymphoma.”

“Lymphoma,” she repeated, testing the word out. It sounded strange. “What is that?”

“Cancer,” the word was nearly whispered, as if he didn't actually want to say it out loud. His next words were louder though, firmer, “Please understand, just because it looks like something, doesn't mean that it is. We will see what the CT scan shows and then the next step, if it comes to that, will be to get a biopsy to confirm what we’re dealing with. Now. Does tomorrow at 7am work for you?”

Emma froze, her mind immediately beginning to race. Cancer? _Cancer_?!! This doctor thought she might have cancer? How could that be? This kind of thing didn't happen to almost 26 year olds, not even notoriously unlucky ones, right? It couldn't be right. It would turn out to be wrong. Because life might have been unfair to her since the day she was born and promptly abandoned on the side of a road but she'd thought she'd made it through the worst. Hadn't years of being given back, over and over and over again, of being unloved and often mistreated, been punishment enough for one lifetime? She knew better than to expect anything to go her way but the last year here in Boston hadn't been downright horrible, lonely, but not horrible. She'd really thought she'd turned a corner. And now she maybe probably had cancer. Of course. Because life hated her.

“Emma?”

Her racing thoughts were interrupted and Emma startled, blinking rapidly as she looked up at the doctor. He was eyeing her worriedly, a hint of apology in his eyes, as if this was somehow his fault.

“Tomorrow?” He prompted, “Can you make that appointment?”

Emma swallowed, her thoughts still a jumbled mess, “I...uh...yeah, I can make it.”

“Good,” he nodded, “You don’t have a GP, correct?”

Emma nodded back her confirmation.

“Okay, then come back here the day after tomorrow. The results from the scan should be ready by then, I’ll have them sent here. For now I'm going to give you a prescription for a puffer, it should help some with the coughing.”

xxxxxx

Emma moved quickly through the waiting room and out of the clinic, her head ducked low, intent on avoiding the gaze of anyone still sitting in the waiting room. She was sure she still looked shell shocked, she still _felt_ shell shocked, like the world was tilting off its axis. The idea of anyone, even complete strangers who she’d likely never see again, seeing her like that bothered her quite a bit. She’d worked her entire life on projecting strength, on _being_ strong, because that was how she protected herself, that was how she survived. Knowing that she was currently projecting something much different than that was worrisome, almost more so than the word that was running through her brain on an incessant loop that wouldn’t stop.

_Cancer. Cancer. Cancer._

The word repeated over and over through her brain like it was a beat being played louder and louder on a drum. She yanked the door to her yellow bug open, sliding into the driver’s seat, snapping her seatbelt in place, and turning the car on. As she pulled out of her parking spot, she reached for the radio dial on the dashboard, turning it on, and then cranking the volume until it was impossibly loud, loud enough that she could feel the music reverberating through her body even over the hum of the car, loud enough that stopped at a red light she got glares from other drivers, loud enough that she was probably causing permanent hearing damage, and, yet, not loud enough to drown the word out.

 _Cancer_.

xxxxxx  

Emma didn’t stop to get the puffer, deciding that whatever relief it may provide could wait until she felt more prepared to face strangers and less like her head was going to explode or her heart was going to beat it's way right out of her chest.

She took the stairs up to her apartment at full speed, racing up three floors as if she was being chased, which she sort of was, just by her own brain and outpacing it was essentially an impossible feat. She slammed the door of her apartment shut behind her kicking off her shoes and hanging up her leather jacket before she headed for the kitchen, yanking open the fridge door.

She studied the sad contents of the fridge, three beers, an almost empty container of orange juice, a random assortment of condiments, a half eaten jar of pickles, and two strawberry yoghurts. She needed to go grocery shopping. Not tonight though. For once in her life, she wasn’t hungry. The opposite, actually, she felt pretty nauseous.

She hadn’t opened the fridge looking for food anyway, the beer was what she wanted. She grabbed one, twisting off the top and tossing it onto the counter, closing the fridge door with her hip. She took a long pull of the cold beer as she walked over to the couch, flopping herself down. The cold liquid sliding down her throat wasn’t nearly as satisfying as she’d hoped it would be. She reached for the remote and turned the TV on but, just like the radio in the car, the television did little to drown out her thoughts.

After fifteen minutes of trying to pay attention, she gave up, setting the mostly finished beer down on the coffee table and pulling out her laptop. She pulled up a search engine and typed in _Lymphoma_ , clicking on the first link that came up. She got two sentences in and then she shook her head. What was she doing? This was a horrible idea. She closed the window and set the laptop aside, picking the beer back up and chugging the rest of its contents. She stood, walking back over to the kitchen, setting the empty beer on the counter beside its discarded lid and contemplating her options. She shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. She probably shouldn’t drink _at all_ right now. But the thought of eating still made her feel queasy and the possibility of being buzzed enough to shut her brain up was too tempting. Decided, she pulled a second beer from the fridge and headed back for the couch, sipping the drink slowly, trying once again to focus on the television.

It sort of worked for about ten minutes but then her attention was drawn back to the laptop, pulling it back onto her lap. She stared at it blankly for a long moment before she typed in another search.

_Cost of cancer treatment._

She hesitated a split second and then she hit enter, again picking the first link and starting to read. In many ways this was an even worse idea than her first search and, yet, she couldn’t stop herself, she kept scrolling down.

She had some medical insurance. Like the visit to the walk in clinic, her job was to blame - or perhaps was to _thank_ was more appropriate in this instance - for that small relief. She’d always assumed she’d get injured eventually and that she’d need the insurance. But it wasn’t _good_ insurance. It had copays and deductibles and even just this scan she was supposed to be having tomorrow would cost her. If she really was sick, would she be able to keep working? Would she be able to afford medical bills _and_ her apartment? The thought of having to give up her apartment made her chest ache. She was proud of this apartment. It was a fairly tiny one bedroom place but it was nice and clean and bigger than anywhere else she’d lived since she’d run away from the foster care system at seventeen and it even had furniture that she’d picked out herself. She’d been here in Boston for a year, and in this apartment for eight whole months, it was literally the longest she’d lived anywhere since her first foster family had given her back at the age of three. What if that was in jeopardy?

She sighed loudly, finishing the rest of her second beer and slamming the laptop closed.

What was she doing? Why was she worrying like this? It could be nothing. She shouldn’t be worrying until she knew something more concrete. Knew for sure that it was cancer. Maybe it wasn’t. But maybe it was. Why wouldn’t it be? Why would anything in her life ever go right?

“Shut up,” she growled out loud at her brain, beyond frustrated by the incessant inner dialogue.

She sighed again. It was going to be a long night.

xxxxxx

The CT scan was nothing like Emma imagined, which, okay, she didn’t really have much to base this imagined vision on, but still. Why had nobody mentioned that getting a CT scan included being forced to drink some horrible cocktail beforehand? She couldn’t even chug it like she wanted to, she was supposed to sip it slowly over a designated period of time. Its only saving grace was the sugar free raspberry lemonade they mixed it with, although she imagined that Kool Aid powder would have done a better job of masking the horrible taste.

It only got worse from there. The test required an IV. The IV itself wasn’t a problem, needles didn’t really bother her, it was what they did with the IV, which was inject her with some horrible dye that would apparently give them a better picture. The dye had the unfortunate side effect of setting her insides on fire, every inch of her body unpleasantly, although not painfully, warm, like smoldering from the inside out, with the added bonus of being pretty damn sure she’d peed herself (which thankfully, she had not).      

She’d hoped she’d be able to gleam if it was good news or bad news from the person administering the test but even her lie detecting super power was of no use. She wondered if they taught a course in poker faces for medical professionals. They all seemed to have mastered the same blank expression.  

All in all, the whole thing pretty much sucked.

xxxxxx

Waiting two days to go back to the clinic to get the CT scan results was a little bit like torture. At least the puffer sort of worked, enough that Emma wasn’t coughing every five minutes, allowing her to focus on work. She’d managed to track not one, not two, but three bail jumpers in that time mostly because she desperately needed the distraction. Tony, her boss of sorts, the owner of the bonding company, was thrilled.

She was back at the clinic now, sitting in a different exam room, waiting to see the doctor, whom she’d learned when she checked in today did in fact have a name - Dr. Garrison. Just like two days previous, her leg bounced nervously while she waited. The receptionist had done the not making eye contact thing again when she'd checked in, which really could mean nothing but it had left Emma feeling especially unsettled.

She wasn't sure if she should breathe a sigh of relief that the wait was over or hurl when the doctor finally walked into the room. She suddenly felt like her head was trapped underwater, her heart beating erratically in her chest, the thumping echoing in her ears.

“Hello Emma, how are you today?” Dr. Garrison asked.

Distracted by the thumping of her heart, Emma’s response was delayed. “I'm okay,” she finally managed to get out, wondering if the wobble in her voice was as obvious to the doctor as it was to her.

“Has the puffer helped?” Dr. Garrison asked, motioning for her to stand so that he could listen to her chest.

She nodded, rising from her chair and shuffling closer, taking deep breaths as the doctor pressed the cold stethoscope to her back and then her front.

Dr. Garrison was silent, listening intently for several long seconds before he removed the stethoscope from his ears, hanging it back around his neck with a nod, as if satisfied. “Okay,” he clasped his hands together, “So, I received your CT scan results…”

Emma gnawed on her lip as she waited for him to continue.

“The mass in your chest _is_ swollen lymph nodes as we suspected. The mass is about the same size as the one over your collarbone. About 3 inches in diameter. The scan showed other swollen lymph nodes as well, smaller, about an inch, in both of your armpits,” the words were spoken carefully.

Emma swallowed, a hand reaching up to rake through her blonde hair, “What does that mean?” Had the doctor just said there were lumps under her arms? Had she missed those too?

“Well...findings are still consistent with lymphoma. We will have to go ahead with the biopsy to confirm that diagnosis and establish what type specifically we are dealing with.”

Emma’s heart thumped impossibly louder. Not the news she’d been hoping for.

xxxxxx

The biopsy was scheduled for the following week.

Of all the places Emma expected to be reminded of how alone she was, she hadn’t really considered that checking in for an operation would be one of them.

The first thing the nurse taking her vitals asked was who was picking her up. Apparently she wouldn’t be allowed to drive after being put under general anesthetic.

“Uhh…” Emma gnawed her lip, trying to think up a suitable lie, “A friend.” That seemed reasonable. This nurse didn’t need to know that Emma had no friends, heck, she hardly even had people she was friendly with.

“Can I have their number please? We’ll call when you’re out of surgery,” the nurse eyed her with raised eyebrows, clearly not believing her unconvincing lie.

“Uhh…” Emma had nothing to say to that.

The nurse’s eyebrows quirked higher a moment before her expression softened to something akin to pity, which really was worse as far as Emma was concerned.

“If you don’t have anyone to pick you up, that’s okay. We can call you a cab.”

“Yeah, okay,” Emma sighed. She wanted this nightmare to be over.   

xxxxxx

Emma hated hospitals in the same generic way that most people hated hospitals - they were too white, too sterile, and they all seemed to have the same smell, as if they all used the same non-specific cleaning product.

Lying on the operating table while people fluttered around her, attaching wires to her torso and busying themselves doing who knows what else, it occurred to Emma that there were much more specific things to dislike about hospitals.

This room, for instance, was much too cold, the operating table too hard, and the beeping that began once they'd attached the wires to her seemed insufferably loud.

Her mind raced, contemplating if it was too late to decide she didn't want to do this, but then they were asking her to count backwards from a hundred. She made it to ninety-six and then there was nothing.

xxxxxx

She woke to someone standing over her, her first instinct was to jerk away, but her body’s response was sluggish and her limbs did nothing more than flail pathetically. “Mmm,” she grunted out, momentarily confused as to where she was, her eyes only open a sliver.

“How are you feeling, Emma?” the person standing above her, a woman, asked.

“Mmm...sleepy,” Emma mumbled, her eyes closing shut again against her will. Slowly the memory of where she was, and why, came tumbling back to her. The hospital. The biopsy.

The nurse smiled, the amusement evident in her tone, “Yes, well, that's to be expected.”

Emma forced her eyes to blink back open to look at the woman, this time managing to force them wider than a crack. “I…” she started but then realized she had no clue what to say. Should she ask how it went? Would this nurse even know? Or maybe she should ask how long she would be here? Could she leave now maybe? Her brain was filled with a kind of fog that made it impossible for her thoughts to completely unjumble and none of those questions actually left her mouth.

The nurse reached forward and patted her arm, “Just rest. You'll feel better in a little bit and then we’ll get you discharged, okay? If you're in pain or if you're nauseous, you just let me know. Your surgeon left instructions that you could have something for either of those things. Everything went well. He’ll be in in a while to talk to you and give you your discharge instructions.”

“O-okay,” Emma managed to stutter out, following only about fifty percent of what was said, her eyes sliding back shut once more.

xxxxxx

After about an hour, Emma felt semi-alive again, the fog still present but no longer completely consuming. The nurse looking after her had given her a banana popsicle, followed by a shot of anti-nausea medication when the aforementioned popsicle unsettled her stomach.

As promised, the surgeon came in to tell her that everything had gone according to plan with the biopsy and to give her the discharge instructions, which were fairly straightforward. She was to leave the incision covered overnight, change the dressing and remove the drain he’d put in in the morning (which she was assured would be easy and not as horrifying as it sounded), and come back in a week to have the stitches removed. The biopsy results would take about a week to come in.

It was another half an hour before Emma was dressed back in her jeans and white tank top and the nurse was calling her the previously promised cab and taking her down to the front entrance of the hospital in a wheelchair.

It had gone from light to dark in the time since she'd entered the hospital and sitting in the back seat of the cab, Emma rested her head against the window, watching the lights of the city pass by in a blur of colour.

xxxxxx

If waiting for the CT scan results was torture, then waiting for the biopsy results was pure hell. To Emma, it sort of felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that at any moment someone might push her off that edge.

She was on a stake out when the call finally came in eight days after the biopsy. She recognized the clinic number flashing on the phone on her passenger seat and she scrambled to pick it up. As quick as she was to grab the phone, she hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath to try and calm herself, before hitting the answer button.

“May I speak with Emma Swan?”

She recognized the voice, it was the doctor from the clinic. She didn’t know why but she’d expected the receptionist and for a moment she was too stunned to reply.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end spoke again after a moment had passed with no sound.

“S-sorry,” Emma stuttered out, “This is Emma speaking.”

“Emma, it's Dr. Garrison,” the man announced, unnecessarily, “I’m sorry to do this over the phone but I thought you’d want to know right away, the biopsy results came in...”

There was a pause and Emma stopped breathing while she waited for him to continue.

“It’s Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.”   

There are moments where your entire life changes and they are so obvious that someone may as well be standing there with a flashing neon sign. Emma knew that this was one of those moments.

xxxxxxx

Regina sat behind her desk at Town Hall and pulled her phone off the hook, dialing a number she now knew by heart. This was a call she’d made weekly for five months. She’d gone as far as setting a reminder in her calendar to tell her to do so.

She listened to the familiar greeting of the receptionist of the Boston adoption agency.

“Yes, hello,” Regina replied when the standard much too cheerful spiel was over, “this is Regina Mills. I’m just calling to check on the status of my file.”

The reply she received was always the same one. There was no need for her to call weekly, the agency would call her immediately as soon as there was something to report, these things typically took quite some time, but her file was still active and they guaranteed that one day she would be bringing home a baby, she just had to be patient.

“Yes, okay,” Regina replied tersely, trying not to sound unfriendly but not sure she was succeeding, “thank you for your time. Have a great day.” She hung up before anything else could be said.

She gritted her teeth, her jaw tightening as she stared at the wall across from her desk. She wasn't disappointed - or at least that was what she was trying valiantly to tell herself,  what she told herself after every one of these calls. Of course, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, she _was_ disappointed. When she'd decided a year ago that her lonely existence would benefit from a child - someone to love and someone to love her - she'd assumed it would be easy, or easy enough. Even after she'd received the devastating news that she could not, would _never_ be able to, carry a child, she'd still thought it would be easy. She’d wasted little time wallowing in the news of her infertility, waiting only one day before contacting the adoption agency in Boston. Things had moved quickly at first with filling out paperwork and passing the home visit to become adoption approved but things had dropped off quickly after that and here she was, five months later, still with no baby.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and her administrative assistant, Susan, popping her head into the office.

“You’re appointment is here,” Susan announced.

Regina frowned, her eyes darting over to the calendar still open on her computer, “What appointment?” There was no appointment showing. In fact, the only thing in her calendar for the entire day was the reminder to call the adoption agency.

“Kathryn Nolan,” Susan clarified, as if that should be obvious, but seconds later her eyes widened in horror and Regina could see the realization dawning on the young woman as she stuttered out, “Sh-she called this morning. I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. I'm so sorry. I didn't put it in your calendar.”

Regina eyed Susan incredulously a long moment, the look admonishment enough, no words were required. Eventually she sighed, “Do you at least know what she is here for?”

Susan gulped audibly, shaking her head.

Regina sighed louder, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a couple of deep breaths. Good help was hard to come by. Susan tried hard, she was just rather scatterbrained. It drove Regina crazy. “Very well then, send her in, I'll just have to discern the reason for her visit myself,” her tone was terse, her displeasure evident.

Susan gulped again, mumbling out another, “Sorry,” before disappearing back out the door.

Moments later Kathryn was striding into the room, greeting Regina with a friendly smile, “Hi Regina, how are you doing?”

“Hello,” Regina returned the greeting, “I'm well and yourself?”

“Can't complain,” Kathryn shrugged.

Regina studied the other woman carefully, trying to decide if this was a social visit or not. Regina had lived in Storybrooke for nearly ten years, yet Kathryn was one of the very few people she counted among her friends. Although, admittedly friends might be too generous of a term. At least Kathryn didn’t flat out avoid Regina’s gaze if they passed in the street, and the other woman had even invited Regina to have dinner with her and her husband Fredrick on occasion. Regina wondered if maybe that was why Kathryn was stopping by today but the fact that she'd apparently called ahead to make an appointment would seem to suggest otherwise.  “Why don't you take a seat,” she motioned with her hand to the chair in front of her desk, “Did you want a coffee? I can have Susan fetch you one.”

“I'm okay,” Kathryn shook her head at the offer of coffee as she took the seat in front of Regina’s desk. “Besides,” she smirked, “Susan looked rather frazzled, I have a feeling she isn't up to the task of fetching coffee.”

“Yes, well, frazzled, I'm afraid is Susan’s natural state,” Regina responded with a mostly straight face, only the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, “she usually manages coffee just fine if you did want one.”

“That's okay, I really am okay,” Kathryn waved the second offer off with her hand.

“Very well. So to what do I owe this pleasure?” Regina quirked an eyebrow. Usually she wouldn't mind chatting for a while, well not with Kathryn anyway, but not knowing the reason for this visit was putting her on edge and she wanted to resolve that quickly.

Kathryn crossed her legs, folding her hands over her knee, “So I received an interesting call this morning...from your mother.”

Shock over took Regina’s face for a moment and it took a great deal of effort for her to school her features back into their usual impassive expression. “What did Cora Mills want with you?” Despite her best attempt, Regina’s delivery was very much less smooth than usual, still recovering from her surprise.

“To hire me as your publicist,” Kathryn replied matter-of-factly.

“Publicist?” Regina uttered the word incredulously, her shoulders straightening, her entire body going rigid, preparing for a fight, “And why pray tell does my mother think I need a publicist?”

Kathryn did not match Regina’s defensive posture, instead leaning back in her chair, clearly an attempt to appear as non-threatening as possible. She shrugged one shoulder, almost indifferent, “Something about you running for Congress?”

“I mentioned that _once_ in passing, as a _possibility_ , not a certainty,” Regina shook her head in complete disbelief. The conversation had been two days ago, her mother was nothing if not prompt. At 33 she'd thought she'd moved passed having her mother meddle in her affairs, she should have known better. Heck, she never should have even told her mother where she’d moved to after she’d left Portland a decade ago. Her life would have been better for it. “She had no right to make decisions on my behalf,” Regina’s voice was terse, as she struggled to maintain her composure, “Please tell me you said no.” The guilty look on Kathryn’s face told her that that definitely wasn’t the case, “You _didn't_?” Why on earth would Kathryn agree to this? Regina could feel her anger flaring. Kathryn was supposed to be her friend.

“Look,” Kathryn sighed, her expression apologetic, “I didn’t say yes, exactly. I just didn’t say no either. You must know that your mother is kind of hard to say no to, she is rather insistent,” Regina opened her mouth to protest but Kathryn held her hands up to stop her, “And that’s not an excuse but think about this...if _I_ said flat out no, she was going to find someone who would agree...and it’s not as if Storybrooke is teaming with publicists, her next call was going to be to some company in  a big city. _I_ will answer to _you_ not her, I'll respect your wishes, do whatever _you_ want. Do you really think some publicist from Portland or Boston or god knows where else would do the same?”

Regina was silent for a very long moment, her teeth gritted tightly together. Finally she gritted out a single word response, “Maybe.” It was as close to agreement as Kathryn was going to get.

“Here’s the thing Regina,” Kathryn folded her hands back in her lap, “Elections are still two years away. When it comes time to make the decision, if you don't want to run for Congress, then you don't run for Congress. But I assume you still want to remain mayor? And a little good PR never hurt anyone. A little good PR that you don’t have to pay for. Isn’t that even better?”

Regina bristled, her entire posture stiffening again, “I do a _great_ job as mayor. Are you trying to suggest that's not PR enough?”

Kathryn immediately shook her head, her hands going back up in defense, “No, not at all. You’re right, you _are_ great at your job, Regina, no one would deny that...but you're also a bit…” she swallowed, her voice dropping as she considered her words carefully, “...aloof.” There was a brief pause before she continued, “You've been here, what? Ten years? And most people still don't know _anything_ about you. Heck I've had you for dinner at my house multiple times and I didn't even know your mother’s name until today.” Kathryn ran a hand through her hair and when Regina didn’t immediately jump in, she added, “You ran unopposed in the last election, Bob practically handed you the job when he retired, and I've heard rumblings that Mr. Gold is considering throwing his hat in the ring next time around. I, for one, have no desire to see that man become mayor. Let me be your publicist. We won't have to do much, I promise.”

Regina blinked slowly, once again lapsing into silence as she digested Kathryn’s words. She wanted to snap back, she nearly did, but a small nagging at the back of her brain gave her pause. Was Mr. Gold really going to run for mayor in the next election? Certainly he wouldn’t win over her? Would he? And what if she did decide to run for Congress? The necessary choice was becoming clear, even if she wasn't sure she liked it. “Fine. But you will not accept money from my mother. I will pay you myself,” her words were firm. Regardless of Kathryn’s previous assurance that Regina would be the one making the decisions, she would not risk it. She refused to let her mother have even the possibility of control over her again.

Kathryn’s eyes widened in surprise a moment, clearly having expected further argument. She recovered quickly though, “Yes, sure, of course. Whatever you want.”

Regina’s posture remained rigid, despite Kathryn’s agreement. She still felt on edge and her tone said as much, “So then. What exactly are you, as my publicist, going to do to for me?”

Kathryn settled back in her chair, looking relaxed again, apparently unbothered by Regina’s tone, “I was thinking we could start with some volunteer work. That typically goes over well with everyone.”   

Regina pursed her lips, “What kind of volunteer work?”

“My first thought was at a pediatric oncology centre,” Kathryn’s response was immediate, she'd clearly spent some time before this meeting considering options.

Regina’s response was just as immediate, “No.” Children were a bit of a sore point for her at the moment. She wanted a child so badly that sometimes it actually hurt when she encountered parents with their children. The thought of being surrounded not only by children, but by very unwell children, made her stomach twist. That would certainly be much too painful to deal with. Perhaps that made her a horrible person, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t help it.

“Okay,” Kathryn shrugged, not even attempting to convince Regina and Regina couldn’t help but wonder if that was deliberate on the other woman’s part, a way of showing that she really was here to listen to Regina.

“Nothing with children,” Regina clarified her previous rejection further, suddenly worried that all of Kathryn’s suggestions would include minors.

“Okay,” Kathryn repeated, still seeming unbothered, “Then how about an adult cancer centre? The American Cancer Society is always looking for volunteers.”

Regina hesitated a moment but then she sighed, “Okay, fine. Set that up.”

There are moments where your entire life changes and you have no clue until much later when you look back on a series of events and pinpoint that moment as being the one where things began, as the moment in time that set you on the path to change. Regina had no clue that this was one of those moments.


	2. First Days

Storybrooke, Maine was situated on the ocean only a handful of miles away from the New Hampshire border, which, strangely enough, meant that the nearest major cancer centre was located two states over in Boston, Massachusetts. That was how, after a little over an hour drive, Regina found herself at the Boston Cancer Centre a few weeks after Kathryn’s visit to her office.

 

Two hours into her volunteer orientation, Regina had decided two things. First, this cancer centre, and she wondered if perhaps it was a trait of  _ all _ cancer centres, was trying very hard to present itself as something other than a hospital despite the fact that it was quite literally connected to the hospital next door via a long covered corridor. The reception area in the entrance of the cancer centre appeared more like a hotel lobby than anything, with its long desk and friendly volunteers waiting to direct you wherever it was you were going. There was a brightly lit atrium where a piano was set up and some good (but not great) pianist was hammering out classical music - the older gentleman leading the volunteer orientation indicated that this occurred for a few hours in the morning and a few hours in the afternoon everyday. This cancer centre had also steered clear of the white paint usually found in hospitals, going for soothing pastels and warm earth tones that Regina assumed were supposed to put patients at ease. Despite these, and other, clear attempts to make the place less hospital like, Regina couldn't help but think that they weren't succeeding. The air held the same sterile smell that that of hospitals did, no cheerfully coloured sign could make words like Chemo Suite, Radiation, or Hematology seem less ominous, and no matter how nice the waiting room chairs were, a roomful of feeble, very clearly unwell, people was a constant reminder that this was no hotel - which brought her to the second thing she’d decided. There didn't seem to be a person, save for a few of the medical staff, under the age of forty in this entire building. If she had to venture a guess, the average age here, volunteers included, seemed to be somewhere in the 70s. It almost made her feel like an intruder - certainly too young to be here. 

 

The first part of volunteer orientation had involved paperwork and an overview of the tasks they'd be asked to assist with and how to perform those tasks. As if anyone needed to be told how to offer juice and coffee, or even how to help guide patients through filling out a symptom assessment on a computer where the instructions were posted clearly - although the other three volunteers, all in their late sixties, had seemed mildly perplexed by the computer, so perhaps  _ some _ people did have to be told. They'd now moved on to a very thorough tour of the place, which, although Regina could concede was likely important, it was a pretty big place, she was starting to find a little boring. 

 

The cancer centre was divided into clinics, which all treated different sub groups of cancer. A lab, a pharmacy, a chemo suite, and a radiation clinic were shared amongst the clinics. They'd started with the shared facilities, which were at least unique, but had now moved on to the clinics, which were so similar that it didn't really seem necessary to visit them all. To make matters worse, the other volunteers were getting increasingly chatty as the tour dragged on. At least, after a series of polite but abrupt answers, they'd stopped trying to include her - sharing personal details of her life with a group of strangers nearly old enough to be her grandparents was not on her to do list.

 

“This is hematology,” Alfred, the orientation leader pointed out, as they paused in a waiting room that was nearly identical to the others they'd already visited. 

 

Alfred explained that hematology included leukemia and lymphoma and answered the other volunteers’ questions - she didn't understand how they could  _ still _ have questions at this point.  Regina did a quick scan of the room while the others spoke. Having come to expect a room full of elderly people, she couldn't help but do a bit of a double take at the sight of a blonde in a red leather jacket sitting in one corner of the room. She didn't mean to stare but she couldn't seem to draw her eyes away as curiosity got the better of her. The woman was staring intently at the floor, so it was hard to say for sure, but Regina was fairly certain that she couldn't be much more than thirty, if that, which very much made her seem out of place. Despite the fact that the blonde woman was sitting alone, a full three seats between her and the nearest person, Regina wondered if maybe she was here with someone, perhaps she was just waiting for a parent or a grandparent. For a second as an older looking gentleman approached the blonde, Regina thought she was right, but the blonde only chanced the man a quick glance as he reached for a discarded newspaper on the chair beside her and shuffled away again. 

 

Just when the chatter beside her started winding down and Regina was conceding to herself that whether the blonde was a patient or a relative of a patient would remain a mystery, the woman’s head snapped up. For a moment Regina thought she'd been caught staring and she quickly ducked her head but green eyes weren't looking in her direction but passed her.

 

“Emma Swan,” the voice Regina had failed to hear previously rung out again and the blonde bounced up and out of her chair.

 

The blonde,  _ Emma _ , walked right towards Regina without so much as a glance at her, her head ducked, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. She did not look up until she reached a nurse holding a thin looking chart and followed her around the corner to the scale where they weighed patients.

 

Patient it was.

 

xxxxxx

 

There were eleven days between when Emma got the call that made her cancer diagnosis official and her arrival at the Boston  Cancer Centre. They were perhaps the eleven most surreal days of Emma’s life - which, given her history, was saying something. 

 

Knowing without a doubt that she had cancer but continuing to go about her daily life as if nothing had changed made her feel strangely like she was living a lie. Surely she wasn’t supposed to continue to wake up every morning and go to work, stop for coffee, pick up groceries, do the laundry, or complete any number of other mundane tasks, while cancer cells continued to multiply and multiply and multiply in her body? Surely she was meant to do  _ something  _ and, yet, until she saw an oncologist there was literally nothing she could do. Her life had changed irrevocably in one phone call, yet for those eleven days it was almost as if it hadn't changed at all. The calm before the storm, perhaps.

 

During those eleven days Emma oscillated, sometimes minute to minute, from extreme impatience (needing the appointment to come sooner, needing to know what the game plan would be, needing to stop doing nothing), to almost indifference (thinking that maybe it would be okay if this pretending to not have cancer thing lasted just a little longer).

 

Her 26 birthday also happened to land in those eleven days. She chose not to celebrate. What was the point of celebrating the day she was abandoned on the side of a road? Especially since she had no one to celebrate with. Instead, she spent the day trying not to think about it at all. Yet, despite her best attempts, it was hard not to wonder if this would be her last birthday. 

 

When the day finally came for her to head the cancer centre, she was a ball of nerves. She barely slept at all the night before, tossing and turning as her brain ran a continuous loop of scenarios about how the appointment would play out. They varied widely and she had no doubt that none of them would turn out to be even close to accurate. 

 

She was technically twenty minutes early for the appointment. She sat in her yellow bug in the parking garage across from the cancer centre, which she noted with annoyance had ridiculously expensive parking fees, for eighteen of those twenty minutes - not because she didn't want to be early but because it took her that long to work up the nerve to go in. In the end, by the time she crossed the street and was directed to the right floor to check into the hematology clinic, she was actually four minutes late. Not that that seemed to matter much. She sat in the waiting room for forty five minutes before they actually called her name.

 

The waiting room only amplified Emma's nerves. Within five minutes she'd realized two things - first, that everyone was staring at her, diverting their eyes only when she looked their way, and, second, that she was the youngest person in this room by at least a few decades, which admittedly was likely the reason everyone was looking at her. The looks made her skin crawl uncomfortably. The mixture of curiosity and pity these mostly frail looking old people were directing her way was far too reminiscent of looks she'd received as a child in the foster care system. She wanted to snap at them but instead she settled for staring at her feet. 

 

When her name was finally called, she bounced out of her chair and made a beeline for the nurse who'd called for her, her gaze remaining focused on the floor, not wanting to catch anymore pitying stares. 

 

The nurse led Emma to a scale, scribbling the number that flashed out on the digital scale into the thin chart in her hand. Emma looked away from the digital display, trying to ignore the fact that the number it was showing was ten pounds less than her weight had been when they’d taken it at the hospital before her biopsy less than a month ago. The nurse checked her height next and then led Emma into an exam room. After a stack of forms and a pen were handed over, with instructions to fill them out while she waited, the nurse left her alone.

 

Emma ignored the stack of paper a moment and turned her attention to the exam room. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary about it. The only real difference between this exam room and the one at the walk in clinic where her life had changed was the direct oxygen hookup above the exam table. At the sight of the oxygen hookup she thought of the few elderly patients she’d seen in the waiting room lugging around oxygen tanks. Emma grimaced, hoping that that would not become something she needed. She really had no clue what to expect. 

 

She bit her lip and ducked her head, diverting her focus to the stack of papers. The first one was straightforward enough. Name, address, insurance information. She filled it out carefully, pulling her insurance information out of the pocket of her jacket that she'd crammed it in this morning. The second one was technically straightforward too but it immediately brought a frown to her face. They wanted an emergency contact. After staring uncertainly at the form for several long minutes, she left it blank and flipped to the next page, which she quickly flipped past as well - there was no way she could provide a family medical history. She sighed, suppressing the sudden urge she had to chuck this offending stack of paper in the garbage and just run away from this place. It wasn’t the cancer centre’s fault that their standard forms didn’t have check boxes for people without friends or family, or for people who were abandoned on the side of the road as a baby and whose every attempt to locate their biological parents had failed. 

 

Emma shook her head, trying to shake thoughts of her childhood and general lonely existence away, and then flipped to the next page. She could actually fill this page out at least and she jotted short answers to the questions about her symptoms.  _ No _ , she hadn’t had any fevers or night sweats.  _ Yes _ , she begrudgingly admitted to herself, there had been weight loss - the exact amount was a mystery because she wasn’t in the regular habit of weighing herself, but she knew it was more than just the ten pounds she’d dropped in the last few weeks.  _ No _ , she hadn’t been experiencing pain after drinking alcohol - which seemed like a very strange symptom - or excessive itching, thank goodness. The last page of the stack was another set of questions she could actually answer, although she was far less truthful with these one, which asked her to rate a range of symptoms related to both her physical and mental well being on a scale of 1 to 10. She might be nervous enough that there was a chance she was going to hurl at any moment but there was no way she was saying her anxiety level was any higher than a one. She wasn’t risking them using her answers to these questions to somehow force her to talk with a counsellor - she’d been forced to see enough of those in her youth and she’d vowed to herself never again.

 

Emma was just re-capping the pen when the door swung open and a brunette walked in. Unlike the nurse who had brought Emma into the exam room, who was wearing scrubs, this woman was dressed in a blouse and a pencil skirt, but the ID tag hanging around her neck, and the fact that she was holding the same thin file with Emma’s name emblazoned on the side, suggested she was staff. Emma wondered for a moment if this was her oncologist but she wasn’t left wondering long.

 

“Hi there,” the brunette greeted, the australian accent surprising Emma, “I’m Belle, I’ll be your nurse. You must be Emma.”

 

 _Her_ nurse? Emma wasn’t quite sure what that meant, her confusion must have been evident because before Emma could figure out what to say, Belle was speaking again.

 

“Around here we assign a nurse and an oncologist to each patient. At every visit, me and you will have a chat first, figure out how things are going for you, and then I’ll pass that information on before your oncologist comes in. I’ll also be the one calling to check up on you and things of that nature. Does that help make my role more clear?” Belle smiled gently, dragging a stool over and sitting in front of Emma.

 

Emma nodded slowly, letting that sink in. She was already starting to feel a bit overwhelmed and they hadn’t even talked about anything real yet. 

 

Belle didn’t seem to mind Emma’s stunned silence, and she just continued on, holding her hand out, “Did you finish with the paperwork?”

 

“Oh umm...yeah…” Emma shoved the papers at Belle, nearly dropping them on the floor in her haste to hand them over but Belle caught them before they could hit the floor. “Sorry…” Emma mumbled sheepishly.

 

Belle just smiled back and flipped through the pages quickly, nodding as she read through them. “You didn’t want to specify an emergency contact?” She asked, her eyes still on the papers as she continued to skim Emma’s answers. 

 

The question wasn’t accusing, or even curious. Belle was clearly just looking for confirmation that Emma hadn’t missed the form but Emma still felt her cheeks colour and she rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly very uncomfortable, as she mumbled out a response, “Uhhh...no.” 

 

Belle looked up, offering Emma a reassuring smile and a head bob, “Okay.” She aligned the edges of the sheets of paper and then slid them into the file. “So…” she started, folding her hands in her lap, “tell me what you know about your diagnosis.”

 

Emma’s eyes widened, startled by the question. Wasn’t she supposed to be here to have them tell  _ her  _ what was wrong, not the other way around? “I...uhhh...it’s Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.” Still thrown by the question, her words came out sounding more uncertain than they should. “Here,” here fingers brushed against the lump on her neck, the long thin line that had bisected it since the biopsy standing out against her pale skin, “And uhhh,” she motioned to her general upper body with her hand, sweeping over her chest and her armpits, “Here-ish.” 

 

Belle nodded, “Yes, we’ve got the scans you had done a month ago and the biopsy results.” She offered Emma that same gentle, reassuring, smile again, “So have you read much about Hodgkin’s?”

 

Emma relaxed a fraction, suddenly understanding where Belle had been going with her original question. She was trying to figure out what Emma did and didn’t know and perhaps also trying to sort out what false information Emma may have gathered from the internet. “Umm…” Emma almost sighed out loud at herself - with all of this stammering she was doing, Belle was going to think she was an idiot. “I haven’t read much.” It was true, mostly. She’d typed Hodgkin’s Lymphoma into Google a dozen times but she could never seem to get much further than a few lines into whatever she clicked on. The whole thing was too overwhelming. It was easier to not deal with it.   

 

“Okay,” Belle nodded, “Well, Dr. Eldridge, he’s going to be your oncologist, will explain everything and answer any questions you might have on that front. Do you have any questions for me before I go get him?”

 

Emma gnawed on her lip. She had a million questions but she wasn’t really sure where to even begin, so she just shook her head, no.

 

xxxxxx

 

Getting the doctor  _ now _ , apparently didn’t actually mean getting the doctor right that second. It was fifteen minutes before the door swung back open and a tall man walked into the room. He had red-ish hair, seemed surprisingly no older than forty, was carrying that same thin file with her name on it, and was wearing an expensive looking shirt and tie. Apparently the staff here didn’t do dress down day. Glancing down at her jeans and battered old sneakers, Emma suddenly felt sort of underdressed.  

 

“Hi,” the man greeted her with a friendly smile, holding his hand out for her to shake, “I’m Dr. Alan Eldridge. Emma, right?”

 

Emma looked back up from her sneakers, nodding her head and reaching forward to shake the offered hand, “Hi. Nice to meet you.” She grimaced as the words left her mouth, hearing how strange they sounded. There wasn’t much that was actually nice about having to meet an oncologist. 

 

Dr. Eldridge smiled knowingly at Emma’s expression, “You know...it’s nice to meet you, although I’m sorry it is under these circumstances, is a favourite line around this place. So...it’s nice to meet you too, Emma, although I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”

 

Emma relaxed slightly in her chair, smiling back, a shy sort of smile. 

 

Dr. Eldridge took a seat in the chair that Belle had previously occupied, moving it closer to Emma and opening the folder now in his lap, “So Belle told me that you don’t know much about Hodgkin’s, is that true?”

 

A head bob was Emma’s only response.

 

“Okay...then this is the part where I get to deliver what I hope is some reassuring news. Hodgkin’s is generally highly curable.”

 

_ Curable _ . What a much nicer C word than Cancer. Despite what was surely good news, or  _ reassuring  _ news as the doctor had called it, Emma didn’t feel nearly as relieved as she felt she ought to. “What does that mean? Highly curable?” the question slipped out before she clamped back down on her lip with her teeth, stopping her  _ real  _ question from slipping out. Something about flat out asking what the odds were that she was going to die was too uncomfortable.

 

The oncologist hesitated a moment, eyeing Emma carefully, clearly trying to gauge how much information she might actually want, before he answered, “Generally speaking, we’re talking about somewhere in the ninety percent range for five year survival rates. And, depending on what your staging ends up being and what treatment method we choose, you’re looking at almost as good odds that treatment will work the first time around.”

 

_ Ninety percent.  _ Emma let that sink in. There was less than a ten percent chance that she would be dead, from cancer, in the next five years. She was pretty sure there weren’t much better odds than that that she could be receiving when it came to something like cancer. Yet, a negative voice still nagged at her brain, breaking its way through to rain on what was surely supposed to be a bit of light in the dark.  _ But _ , the voice whispered to her, what were the odds of being an infant abandoned on the side of the road? What were the odds of being a perfectly healthy baby and not getting properly adopted? What were the odds of any of the other shitty things that had happened to her happening? Heck, even the odds of getting Hodgkin’s in the first place were much less than one percent - one of the few facts she’d gleamed from her repeated failed attempts at research. Surely if all of those things could happen, then she could easily be in that less than ten percent. Emma swallowed thickly as she yelled at the voice in her head to just shut up, nodding at the doctor so that he wouldn’t think that she wasn’t listening to him.

 

If the doctor could tell what was running through Emma’s head, he didn’t show it, he just carried on speaking when she hadn’t said a word after a few minutes. “So based on what you filled out in your intake forms, and based on the results from the scan you had a while ago, it sounds like we’re probably dealing with Stage 2 here. That means that the cancer is in more than one place but all above your diaphragm,” he motioned with his hand to his own torso, showing her where the diaphragm was and sweeping his hand upwards, “I want to do another CT scan and also get a PET scan to confirm that though. We’ll also need to do a bone marrow aspiration and biopsy to make sure that it hasn’t spread to your bone marrow. And we’ll also need to run a wide range of blood tests.”

 

Emma tried to follow along with everything the doctor was saying, but she didn’t even know what some of these words meant - what exactly was a PET scan? She was getting the sense that she was going to forget half of this information. They’d recommended that she bring someone with her when they’d called with the appointment time and she was starting to understand why. She was bobbing her head along as Dr. Eldridge rattled item after item off, until the words bone marrow biopsy left his mouth and she froze. She tried to recover but she could tell just by the way the doctor was eyeing her that she hadn’t been quick enough in wiping away the visible signs of the sudden wave of fear that had rushed through her core.      

 

Emma had watched enough medical TV shows to have placed bone marrow biopsy squarely in her list of top five most dreaded medical diagnostic procedures, somewhere between colonoscopy and that really terrifying looking procedure where they shoved a needle in your eye that she didn’t know the name of. It had not occurred to her that a bone marrow biopsy was in her future. She’d thought that those were for Leukemia. On TV it was  _ always  _ for Leukemia. She swallowed thickly, “Ummm…” she hesitated, not sure what exactly to say, “Is that...necessary?” Even as she asked it, she knew it was a dumb question. Of course he wouldn’t be saying they needed to do it, if it weren’t necessary. She doubted he got thrills from jamming large metal needles into people’s backs. Or maybe he did. She nearly gulped at that thought, shaking her head slightly to shake it away.

 

“The bone marrow biopsy?” Dr. Eldridge guessed what had Emma worried. When Emma nodded her confirmation, he continued, “I know it sounds rather...unpleasant. But I’m afraid we really do have to be sure whether or not the lymphoma has spread to your bone marrow. It will affect the treatment plan.” When Emma still looked skeptical, he added, “We’ll use local anesthetic to freeze the surrounding area first to minimize your discomfort - though we can’t freeze your bone itself. What you’ll likely feel the most is pressure.”

 

“Okay,” Emma sighed partially at his response but mostly at the fact that she’d let herself appear so vulnerable in front of this stranger. That hadn’t been part of the plan for today and now she wasn’t really sure how to recover. Feeling completely uncomfortable now, she crossed her arms over her torso, wishing she could disappear, as she studied the oncologist, “So...ummm...what happens after that? After the tests, I mean. We figure out the stage and then what next?” 

 

“We finalize a treatment plan, which will include chemotherapy and possibly radiation,” Dr. Eldridge answered immediately, his tone serious. 

 

Emma swallowed. She'd known that that was what was coming and yet it didn't prevent the uneasy feeling that settled like a stone in her stomach at the word chemotherapy. Chemo was nearly as terrifying a word as cancer. “Okay…” Emma wasn't really sure what else to say.

 

“We can talk about the specifics once we've confirmed staging but did you have any general questions?” Dr. Eldridge titled his head as he waited for Emma to consider his question

 

“No…” Emma responded immediately but then she hesitated, “Well...actually...how long?”

 

The slight frown on the doctor’s face made it clear that he hadn’t understood what she was asking, “Sorry...how long for which part?”

 

“The treatment...how long before its all done?” Emma worried her bottom lip back between her teeth.

 

“Oh,” Dr. Eldridge nodded, straightening a bit in his chair, “again, that’s a bit dependent on staging. Generally we’ll get through the first few months and then we’ll redo a bunch of testing and take it from there. But at a minimum, it would be four months.” 

 

Four months was a long time. Emma continued to gnaw on her lip as she tried to do the math in her head. Could she stretch the balance in her bank account out to last that long? Maybe. Maybe not, though. With a quiet sigh the inevitable question slipped out, “Will I be able to work?”

 

The oncologist blinked slowly, clearly surprised by the question but attempting not to show it. “Well…” her question had been serious and his tone matched hers as he contemplated his answer carefully, “What is it you do?”

 

“I’m a bail bonds person,” Emma supplied.

 

“Hmm…” Dr. Eldridge mulled over that additional information before providing a response, “Generally I wouldn’t recommend it. Especially with a job that is physically demanding as I imagine bail bonds person is. Treatment will be taxing and most people find that they don’t have the energy required for much else. But...then again...you are young and in otherwise good health. Perhaps it’s a matter of waiting and seeing how you feel once the treatment begins.”

 

It wasn’t exactly the answer Emma wanted to hear but it was better than a flat out no, which frankly was what she’d been expecting. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Maybe she could make this work.

 

Dr. Eldridge returned the smile with one of his own - clearly relieved to get a reaction out of Emma that was something other than the mostly bewildered expression she’d been sporting since he entered the room.     

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma had spent lots of time in places she hadn’t wanted to be in her life. She’d also run from a lot of those places.

 

But here she was now in a place she most definitely did not want to be and all she wanted to do was run but she couldn’t. Well, she  _ could _ . It would be difficult given that her pants were currently around her knees, her shirt balled up high, and there were five people between her and the door. But, technically, she  _ could  _ hop off of the exam table where she was lying on her side and leave. Maybe she could leave and never come back. It was a nice thought. Unrealistic. But nice. 

 

“Are you alright, Emma?”  

 

It was Belle’s voice that cut through the chatter in Emma’s brain and Emma blinked slowly looking up at the nurse, “Hmm?”

 

Belle’s hand hovered as if she wanted to stroke Emma’s hair but was hesitating. The hand eventually landed on Emma’s shoulder, patting gently, “We’re about ready to start. Are you okay?”

 

“Oh...yeah,” Emma bit her lip, her eyes darting from Belle to the other occupants of the room - Dr. Eldridge, two interns because apparently this was a teaching facility and, even though she’d been told she could refuse having them observe, she wasn’t exactly sure how to say no to the person who was technically about to save her life when he asked about it, and a lab technician who would be in charge of taking the samples to wherever they were going because she guessed the interns couldn’t be trusted to do that. She didn’t like that there were so many people here, having an audience only made the whole thing seem more horrible, but she just sighed, “Let’s get this over with.”

 

Belle rubbed her shoulder a moment longer before she nodded and people shuffled around, everyone except the lab technician now out of her line of sight. She looked away from the woman and focused her eyes on the wall, bringing one of her hands up towards her mouth and gnawing on one of her knuckles as a distraction, trying to ignore the way her heart thumped loudly, the sound reverberating in her ears.

 

Dr. Eldridge warned her of each step. First his hands probing to find the right spot over her pelvis, then the stinging of the local anesthetic, then the pressure as the needle for the aspiration was inserted. It was so much pressure that she sort of wondered if she looked behind her if she’d find Dr. Eldridge with one foot resting on the exam table for leverage. Pressure wasn’t pain though and she’d just started to think that this wasn’t so bad when the strangest sensation she’d ever felt overcame her, it was as if her head was suddenly electrified, or maybe as if something in her brain was being vacuumed out.

 

“Aspiration done,” Dr. Eldridge’s words provided the explanation for the sudden strange sensation, “Now we just have to do the biopsy.”

 

There was more pressure again for a moment and some pain and then it was over. 

 

Dr. Eldridge showed her the strange red pencil lead looking sample in the clear container before he handed it over to the lab technician. It wasn’t at all what she expected bone marrow to look like.

 

Emma wondered if this was what her life would be like now. Learning things she had no desire to learn. 

 

xxxxxx   

 

Once they’d put a bandaid over the place where the needle had been inserted and her clothes were back on properly, Emma was instructed to head down to the first level for some blood work, after which she would be allowed to leave this place - at least for today.

 

Walking out of the hematology clinic, her gate a bit stiff, Emma paused to get her bearings. She considered the elevator to her left a moment but she turned right instead, taking the stairs quickly, ignoring the dull ache in her back. 

 

On the main floor, she looked around confused, trying to figure out where exactly this lab she was supposed to be going to was. She considered wandering around looking for it but her rush down the stairs had only made the dull ache in her back more pronounced and she didn’t relish the idea of walking more than was necessary. With a sigh, she approached the front desk to ask for directions.   

 

The receptionist was already talking to someone. A someone with dark hair cut into a bob, who was wearing a pantsuit and heels, which made Emma pretty sure it was a someone who worked here. No one else, even the few volunteers Emma had noticed, seemed to be in anything other than jeans or sweatpants - which, okay, made sense, she had to admit. This was a building full of sick people. Why on earth would sick people be showing up in pantsuits or anything more formal than lounging clothes?

 

Emma stood to the side, planning to wait patiently for the conversation between the receptionist and the well dressed woman to end but the receptionist’s gaze caught hers and the woman smiled, cutting off her conversation with the brunette to address Emma.

 

“Can I help you with something dear?”

 

“Oh…” Emma stammered not having expected the attention to suddenly be on her. The stammering only got worst when the dark haired woman standing at the reception desk turned to look at her as well and, _ wow _ , she was stunning. Emma stared at the rich brown eyes for a long moment before she forced herself to look away. “I...uhh...I,” Emma swallowed, running a hand through her hair and wishing she could disappear into the floor, “Sorry. I was just looking for the lab. For bloodwork.”

 

The receptionist must be used to people making complete fools of themselves, or at least that was what Emma decided, when her only reaction to the word vomit that had left Emma’s mouth, was to smile kindly, before looking over at the brunette. “Regina, would you mind showing this young lady the lab on your way out?”

 

Emma frowned, not appreciating being called a young lady in front of a beautiful woman. She didn’t want this brunette,  _ Regina _ , to get some idea in her head that Emma was like a teenager or something. Not that she thought she looked like a teenager. But still. She was so distracted by her thoughts that she missed Regina’s agreement to the request and now brown eyes were staring at her expectantly.

 

“Well?” the question was accompanied by a slow quirked eyebrow. 

 

“Right,” Emma nodded, “The lab. Lead the way.”

 

There was a flicker of something that might have been amusement, but could have just as easily been annoyance, before the brunette turned on her heels and started moving away from the reception desk.

 

Emma moved quickly to catch up, wincing at the twinge in her back. “So,” she said, falling into step with Regina, determined to make herself seem a little less like a fool, “do you work here?”

 

Regina glanced over at her, “No,” there was a slight shake of her head before she looked back in front of her, turning left down a hall, “I’m a volunteer.”

 

“Oh,” Emma’s eyes widened a bit, not having expected that, based half on her age and half on how well dressed she was. “If you’re a volunteer, where’s your ugly yellow vest thing-y?” She'd noticed other volunteers wearing some kind of standard issue vest. 

 

Regina looked back over at her, eyeing Emma as if she thought she was crazy a moment before she smirked, “It is rather ugly, isn’t it?”

 

Emma nodded, grinning in amusement. 

 

“It was my first day. Volunteer orientation. I suppose I will be provided the hideous yellow smock upon my first actual volunteer shift,” Regina explained.

 

“Lucky you,” Emma smirked.

 

Regina grimaced at the thought before her features smoothed out, her expression unreadable once more. They walked a few more feet and then she stopped, “Well, Miss…” for a second it looked like Regina was going to add another word but then she clamped her mouth shut and waited. 

 

It took Emma half a second to realize that Regina was asking for her name, “Oh...Emma...uhh...Swan. My last name is Swan. But call me Emma.”

 

“This is the lab, Miss Swan,” Regina motioned to the door ahead, ignoring Emma’s suggestion to call her by her first name, “Is that all you needed?”

 

“Yeah that's all,” Emma nodded, a hand raking through her hair, “Thanks for your help.”

 

“It wasn't a problem,” Regina nodded politely. 

 

“Alright,” Emma rocked on the balls of her feet, “I guess I should go let them steal my blood then…” she hesitated and then added, “Maybe I'll see you around this place again sometime.”

 

“Perhaps,” a small smile tugged at the corners of Regina’s mouth.

 

Emma smiled back and then with one last head nod, she headed into the lab. 


	3. The Almost But Not Quite Alphabet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just wanted to sort of apologize for the very last part of this...it got a little long and filled with excessive medical details. I tried re-writing it to gloss over the information but I felt that without the details it almost lost its purpose, which is to show how increasingly overwhelmed Emma is becoming. Showing Emma's frame of mind was important enough to me that I decided to leave it as is - hopefully it isn't too difficult to read.

There was perhaps nothing more mortifying than trying to explain to a medical tech at the hospital that, despite the fact that she’d answered ‘six weeks’ to his question about when her last period had been, she was _one hundred percent_ sure she wasn’t pregnant. Emma didn’t understand why he was eyeing her like he didn’t believe her. Stress screwed up people’s menstrual cycles, that was a pretty well known fact, and finding out she had cancer was pretty high up on the stress inducers list.

 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Emma insisted again, pink beginning to tinge her cheeks. She didn’t feel like explaining that she hadn’t had sex with _anyone_ in six months, let alone that it had been far far longer than that, like nearly a decade longer, since she’d had sex with anyone who could get her pregnant.

The young male tech looked uncomfortable and he scratched the back of his ear a moment as he studied her. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “Our standard procedure is to have you take a pregnancy test.” He didn't wait for a response, just stood and grabbed the pregnancy test from a nearby medical cabinet before returning to hold it out for her to take.

 

Emma’s cheeks flushed further red as she eyed the test. She wanted to scream _I’m a lesbian_ at him but instead she just sighed and reached for the test, heading into the washroom he pointed her towards.

 

She still had no clue what a PET scan really was but it was rapidly rising on a list of most hated medical procedures - especially once it became clear that taking a pregnancy test wasn't actually all that easy. First of all, she didn’t actually have to go to the washroom. After trying for ten minutes, she came out of the washroom and mumbled out an apology. After insisting another time that she most definitely was not pregnant, and that even if she was, she was pretty sure someone would have mentioned something after her CT scan the day before, the tech decided they could get through the first part of the test without the pregnancy test.

 

He filled her a cup of the same awful drink they used for CT scans made ten times worse by the fact that it was mixed with lukewarm tap water instead of juice.

 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized when she grimaced at the first sip, “I know it tastes better with juice but we use a glucose based tracer to bind the radioactive isotope to for the test. Juice could theoretical skew the results.”

 

 _Radioactive?_ This test was _radioactive_? Like glowing green? Or like some kind of Spider Man shit? She was suddenly thinking that perhaps googling it would have been a good idea.

 

Her expression must have shown her confusion because the tech was quick to clarify, “There’s little danger. It will pass out of your body quickly. How the test works is that the tracer concentrates in areas with higher cell activity, areas that consume a lot of glucose - like cancer. The scanner then reads how much radioactive isotope there is in different areas of your body. Essentially, the more tracer there is in area, the more an area will light up on the screen.”    

 

A vague recollection of hearing the expression ‘lit up like a Christmas tree’ popped into Emma’s head. She must of heard it on a TV show or something, she decided, and now _that_ was what was going to happen to her. Soon someone would be staring at a screen and assessing the _brightness_ of her insides, someone would be deciding exactly just how _cancer-y_ she was. Because this wasn’t a question of _if_ but of _how much_. She would be bright, at least above her diaphragm, but perhaps other places. Who knew? The thought that the cancer could have invaded further, that even now it could be spreading outward from its point of origin, further and further and further towards her extremities, was unsettling. So unsettling that she didn’t want to think about it anymore.

 

The tech was staring at her expectantly, clearly waiting for a response, but Emma wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Eventually she just nodded at him and took a large gulp of the drink, forcing herself not to grimace this time.

 

xxxxxx

 

Once the drink was done, the tech sent her back to the washroom to take the pregnancy test, which was where Emma encountered her second problem. The spot on this pregnancy test that she was supposed to pee on was small, like really _really_ small. She nearly had a panic attack as she continued to miss, getting urine all over her hand but not managing to get any on the right part of the stick. She didn't know what she would do if she had to go back out there and tell that guy that she'd screwed this up. As if trying to explain that she was sure she wasn’t pregnant, and then that she couldn’t pee, hadn’t been mortifying enough. Just when she was sure she was done for, she finally managed to get the test stick positioned right, and she breathed an audible sigh of relief.

 

When she walked out a few minutes later and handed over the negative test she resisted the urge to add an ‘I told you so’. It was probably best not to antagonize the person who was about to jam a needle full of radioactive something or other into her arm.

 

xxxxxxx

 

The PET scan wasn't _so_ bad. Disappointingly, the radioactive tracer hadn't been a fun green glowing colour like she'd been imagining it, and the scan itself was significantly longer than the CT scans she’d had, requiring her to lie still with her arms over her head for a solid thirty minutes, but, unlike a CT scan, the test didn't require the injection of the dye that made her feel like she was peeing herself, which was a nice welcome surprise.  

 

When she was finally done with the test, she slid her red leather jacket on, gave an awkward wave to medical tech guy, and slipped out into the hallway, navigating her way through hospital hallways to the main entrance of the building and stepping out into the cool fall air - winter was most definitely rapidly approaching. Her eyes slid, almost against her will, to her right, where the cancer centre stood, connected to the hospital by a narrow enclosed pathway. She stared at it a moment and then forced herself to look away. She didn’t have to go there today. _That_ appointment, the one where the verdict on her staging and treatment plan would be delivered, wasn’t for two more days. She didn’t understand where this sudden flurry of panic was coming from but it simmered deep in her belly as she thought about that appointment two days away. She took a deep breath and then another and then, mercifully, her stomach grumbled distracting her.

 

It was past lunch time and she hadn’t eaten since the night before, she’d sort of forgotten, but clearly her stomach had not. She craned her head to look behind her back at the hospital, considering the cafeteria inside as a viable option for a moment, before deciding that she’d had about all of the antiseptic smell and white walls she could stand for one day. Instead she darted across the road, heading for a small cafe that would certainly have, at a minimum, muffins or donuts or something of that variety to offer.

 

xxxxxx        

 

The cafe was packed.  

 

Emma stood in the entrance way a moment, letting warmth permeate through her, a welcome relief from the cool outdoor air - it was only now that she realized it was colder out than she’d thought. She cupped her hands and brought them up to her mouth, blowing on them to warm them up, as she looked around, trying to ascertain exactly what kind of cafe this was. After a few moments, she understood. Orders were placed at the counter and then customers were handed a number to carry with them to a table of their choosing, where food was eventually delivered to them.

 

She studied the menu printed on a large chalkboard that was mounted above the counter as she shuffled forward in line.

 

When it was finally Emma’s turn, the young woman behind the counter, whose name tag said ‘Sage’, smiled at her, “What can I get you?”

 

Emma’s eyes darted up to the memo once more before she decided, “Grilled cheese, please. And...umm...a hot chocolate.”

 

“Did you want whip cream on the hot chocolate?” Sage asked as she pressed buttons on the register.

 

“Yeah sure,” Emma nodded, hesitating a second and then adding, “And...actually...do you have cinnamon?”

 

Sage wrinkled her nose, clearly finding the question strange, but then she shrugged, “Yeah.”

 

“Could I have some of that on top?” Emma shot the girl an apologetic smile for the somewhat unusual request.

 

Sage just shrugged again, “Sure.” She finished punching keys on the cash register and then told Emma the price.

 

Emma pulled rumpled bills from the pocket of her pants - grey sweatpants because she’d been told to wear metal free clothing for the scan - and exchanged them for a placard with the number 23. Shuffling away from the register, she was now faced with the dilemma of finding a table. She scanned the room, starting to feel pretty certain she was going to have to eat her grilled cheese sitting on the ground, when she spotted a familiar looking brunette sitting at a table near the window all by herself. _Regina_. The name popped into Emma’s head as she recalled where she’d seen her before - at the cancer centre the week before.

 

Emma hesitated a moment, not sure approaching a woman who would surely remember her as a mumbling idiot was the most brilliant of plans, but after a bit of internal debate, she decided she had nothing to lose. After all, eating grilled cheese sitting on the floor certainly wasn’t that appealing of an alternative.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina was picking at the garden salad she’d ordered, staring out the window, when she heard the shuffling of feet and the clearing of a throat. She looked away from the window and in the direction of the noise. She blinked slowly, saying nothing for a long moment as she stared at the blonde with the bright green eyes and an almost sheepish expression. It only took her a moment to place the woman - that red leather jacket was quite distinct. She waited expectantly for the woman, whose name she remembered was Emma Swan, to say something.

 

“Hi,” Emma smiled, “...Regina, right?” She didn’t wait for Regina to confirm, just continued, “We met the other day. At the cancer centre. You probably don’t remember...”

 

Emma was a nervous rambler. It was a trait that would usually annoy Regina, yet she couldn’t help but find something endearing in the earnest expression on the blonde’s face. “I remember,” Regina offered, face neutral.

 

“Oh,” Emma’s eyes widened slightly, surprised, her train of thought clearly disrupted. She smiled nervously, a hand raking through her long blonde hair, before she continued, “Well...I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch. But...I was just wondering if I could maybe join you? If you didn’t mind? This place is apparently popular.” Her gaze left Regina to sweep the room.

 

Regina followed Emma’s gaze, noting the full tables. She wasn’t sure how she actually felt about sharing her table but she did know it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to say no to the request. Looking back at Emma, she motioned with her hand to the chair across from her, “Go ahead and take a seat.”

 

The relief on Emma’s face was evident and she smiled brightly, pulling the chair out and dropping into the seat, setting the placard with her order number on the table. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Regina nodded. They stared at each other a long moment, it was verging on awkward when Regina finally looked down at her salad, picking her fork back up.  

 

“Sooo…” Emma drummed her fingers against the tabletop, “Did they end up giving you one of the ugly yellow vests?”

 

Regina looked back up, forked poised over the lettuce. She wasn’t sure why the question surprised her. Of course Emma would be compelled to speak. People didn’t generally just sit in silence. Although Regina wouldn’t really know. It wasn’t as if she regularly dined with anyone. The only person who’d ever tried to sit at her table at the dinner she frequented regularly in Storybrooke was Sidney Glass from the Town paper - and she’d told him, and his uncomfortable advances, to go away in no uncertain terms. “Unfortunately, yes,” Regina wrinkled her nose at the thought of the yellow vest she’d deposited in her car before coming to this diner for lunch - there was no way she was going to have such a hideous garment on her person for longer than was strictly necessary.

 

Emma chuckled lightly, “Sorry about your luck.”

 

“Yes, well, I suppose wearing it is a sacrifice I’m willing to make in the name of volunteerism,” Regina shrugged one shoulder.

 

Emma chuckled louder, her eyes twinkling, “How very noble of you.”

 

Regina just smirked and then stabbed carefully at the lettuce in the bowl in front of her, bringing the bite up to her mouth, and chewing slowly, watching as one of the waitresses approached their table with a steaming hot beverage of some kind, topped with whipped cream and some kind of powder.

 

The waitress set the beverage down in front of Emma, who’s eyes instantly lit up in delight.

“The grilled cheese will just be a few more minutes,” the waitress informed Emma before slipping away.

 

Emma picked up the mug, blowing carefully on the contents before taking a sip, sighing contently. When she set the mug back down, Regina smirked in amusement.

 

“What?” Emma’s nose crinkled as she caught the expression on Regina’s face.

 

“You’ve got a little something…” Regina motioned with her hand to her own nose, instead of explaining that there was whipped cream on the tip of Emma’s nose.

 

“Oh,” Emma’s eyes widened as she quickly reached for a napkin and wiped at her nose with it. “Is it gone?” she asked once she’d pulled the napkin away.

 

Regina nodded her confirmation.

 

“Thanks,” Emma smiled.

 

They sat in a silence a few moments, Regina picking away slowly at her salad, Emma taking the occasional sip of her hot chocolate but mostly just using the mug to warm her hands. Regina didn’t mind the silence but it seemed to make Emma uncomfortable and the longer they sat without speaking, the more she fidgeted.

 

“Sooo…” Apparently finally having enough of the silence, Emma spoke, “How come you’re volunteering at the cancer centre?”

 

Regina’s brow furrowed, her posture stiffening. Was this woman questioning her motives? Did Regina not seem like the kind of person who would volunteer her time? They’d barely even spoken, why would Emma assume that? Before Regina could snap something defensive in reply, Emma rushed to clarify.

 

“I mean, it’s just that all the other volunteers are like seventy. And you seem very much not seventy. But maybe you just look really good for your age. Like really really _really_ good,” Emma shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck as she shot Regina a sheepish sort of smile.

 

Regina relaxed, quirking an eyebrow at Emma, “I’m not sure whether that’s supposed to be a compliment or I’m supposed to be insulated, Miss Swan. I’ve never been compared to a seventy year old before.”

 

“Most definitely a compliment,” Emma assured, her cheeks tinging the slightest shade of red. “And call me Emma, please. Miss Swan makes me feel weird.”

 

Regina shrugged, not agreeing to the request, but not denying it either. She tended to always refer to people by their last names out of habit. It was so much more professional. First names were too familiar. First names were intended for friends. And friends weren’t exactly something she had. She hadn’t wanted any when she’d first moved to Storybrooke. Her heartache had been too fresh. Back then she'd been too standoffish, too guarded, and eventually people had stopped trying. It had been what she wanted and yet, lately, she’d wondered often if her life might have been different if she’d approached those first years in Storybrooke differently.  

 

“You haven’t answered the question though. Is there a reason why you, a non-seventy year old, is volunteering at the cancer centre?” Emma tapped a hand against the table, “I mean…” she suddenly looked a bit nervous, “you don’t have to say if it’s like...personal, or whatever. I was just curious.”

 

Regina didn’t particularly like to answer personal questions, especially when she was being put on the spot. But this question, she supposed, wasn’t actually all that personal, and Emma’s expression was just so earnest that it was hard not to answer her. Besides, if she didn’t answer now, Emma would think that her reason really _was_ personal. Emma would assume that someone Regina knew, or more likely someone Regina loved, had _had_ cancer, perhaps even had died from cancer. And even though that wasn’t the truth, it might lead to some uncomfortable questions. Because someone she’d loved _had_ died, just not from cancer. She tilted her head, considering her answer. What was the right way to say that she was doing it for the publicity? What would Kathryn want her to say? She settled for the truth, even if it was a truth that glossed over some of the details, “I wanted to volunteer somewhere. The cancer centre seemed as good of a place as any.”

 

Emma tilted her head as she considered the response and for a second Regina thought she was going to prod further but then she just shrugged and picked up her mug and took a long sip of her hot chocolate.

 

A few more minutes lapsed in silence and then, once again, Emma seemingly felt the need to fill it. “So what do you do when you’re not volunteering?”

 

Regina looked up from her salad, eyeing Emma uncertainly. “Are you asking what my job is?”

 

Emma shrugged, “Sure.”

 

It was a strange response. As if Emma didn’t actually know what she was asking but was perfectly content to accept whatever answer Regina would give her. It threw Regina and it took her a moment to respond, “I’m the mayor.”

 

“Of Boston?” Emma’s brow crinkled and Regina could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Emma, no doubt, trying to sort out why she didn't already know that.

 

“No,” Regina couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth at the expression on Emma’s face. She eventually clarified, “Of Storybrooke. It’s a small town in Maine.”

 

“Maine. Wow,” Emma’s baffled expression was replaced with a smile, “You’ve come pretty far, Madam Mayor. That’s some real dedication to volunteer work.”

 

Regina shrugged, “It really isn’t that far away. Just a little more than an hour. Boston has the nearest major cancer centre.”

 

“Wow,” Emma said again, although Regina wasn’t really sure what the ‘wow’ was about this time.

 

Whatever Emma might have been thinking though was lost as the waitress returned and set grilled cheese down in front of Emma. The blonde’s green eyes lit up in delight at the food and she immediately picked up half the sandwich and dove in, eating as if this was the first food she’d had in days, or perhaps as if she was worried someone was going to come and steal it from her.  

 

Regina couldn’t help but think about how appalled her mother would be by these table manners. If Regina had ever eaten like _that_ , she never would have heard the end of it.

 

Emma seemed to sense Regina staring at her because she looked up from her plate, mouth still full of grilled cheese and shot an expression across the table that clearly said ‘what?’

 

Regina should perhaps feel embarrassed at being caught staring the way she was but all she could really feel was continued bafflement at the way Emma was eating. She quirked an eyebrow at the other woman, “Hungry, I take it?”

 

Emma looked confused a moment until her eyes widened slightly as they registered understanding. “Oh,” she swallowed her last mouthful of food, suddenly looking embarrassed as she set her grilled cheese down and reached for a napkin, wiping at her face. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “I haven't eaten in like eighteen hours. I was fasting for a test that lasted way longer than I thought it would.”

 

At Emma’s clear embarrassment, Regina felt a sudden wave of regret at the tone she’d used. She shouldn’t have been so judgmental. She should have held her tongue. She couldn’t take it back now though. Worse, she was at a loss for what to say. She was curious about what kind of test Emma had had but it didn’t seem polite to actually ask. She couldn’t help but wonder again, as she had when she’d spotted the blonde last week, what someone so young was doing at a cancer centre filled with the elderly. Clearly she was a patient of some kind but other than that Regina didn’t know what to assume. She seemed healthy.

 

“You can ask you know.”

 

Regina froze, unable to hide the surprise or confusion on her face at Emma’s words.

 

Emma tilted her head, her expression knowing, “What the test was for. Or maybe why, I, an also non-seventy year old, am hanging out in and around a cancer centre.”

 

“You’re not seventy?” The dry humour that came out in quick response was really a defense mechanism, a reaction to being so thrown off kilter by Emma’s bluntness, at being called out on her inner thoughts. It bothered her that Emma had read her so easily.

 

“Ouch,” Emma brought a hand up to her chest and feigned hurt, “I didn’t realize I looked _that_ bad.”

 

“Or perhaps I just assumed you look really good for your age,” Regina smirked, repeating Emma’s line from earlier.

 

Emma shook her head, chuckling lightly. When silence fell over them once more, she eyed Regina curiously, “Sooo...you’re really not going to ask?”

 

A voice in Regina’s head, the curious one, screamed at her to just ask the question, the more predominate voice, however, reminded her that asking such questions of a stranger was inappropriate. “I wouldn’t want to make you tell me anything you didn’t want to,” she said it softly, the sincerity in her voice readily apparent because that was actually the truth. She hated to be asked personal questions, only wanted to provide the information she wanted to provide, and extending that same courtesy to the woman sitting across from her seemed only fair.

 

Emma shrugged, poking at her grilled cheese, breaking off a piece and chewing on it slowly and swallowing. “I have Hodgkin’s Lymphoma,” she said as she tore another piece away from the grilled cheese. She said it like she was talking about the weather, like it was no big deal at all.

 

Regina knew, of course, that Emma must have cancer. It was the only explanation for her being at the cancer centre that really made sense. Yet at Emma’s confirmation, she was surprised at the sudden wave of sympathy that settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew practically nothing about Emma beside her name but the whole thing still seemed unfair. “I-I’m sorry,” she nearly grimaced at her own stuttering but managed to keep her expression neutral.

 

“Don’t be. It’s not as if you gave it to me,” Emma shrugged, popping the torn piece of grilled cheese into her mouth.

 

Regina just stared, wondering how she could seem so blasé about the whole thing. Regina was fairly certain that if she had cancer she would be a basket case. And she certainly wouldn’t be sitting in a diner discussing it calmly with a stranger.

 

Emma didn't seem bothered by Regina’s lack of response. “The test today was just to sort some things out before I start treatment.”

 

Regina nodded as she tried to figure out something at least semi-intelligent to say. “Will you be starting treatment soon then?” was what she settled for.

 

“Yeah, I guess…” Emma shrugged.

 

Regina set her fork aside, finished with her salad. Although she could excuse herself, for some reason she didn’t. She told herself it was because it wouldn’t be polite, not when Emma was still eating, not when Emma had just shared what she had, but a niggling at the back of her brain suggested that there might be another reason. She shut that voice up and instead chose to speak, “Now you know where I live and what I do for a living but I know very little about you. Do you live here in Boston?”

 

“Yep,” Emma nodded, setting aside the last bit of grilled cheese in favour of picking up her hot chocolate and drinking the remainder of the liquid, “And I’m a bail bonds person. So now you know exactly the same amount of information about me that I know about you. So, it’s fair, or whatever.”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow at Emma’s ‘or whatever’ but she couldn’t help but smile. She watched Emma a moment, trying to picture her chasing after degenerates, or whatever exactly it was a bail bonds person did. “That’s quite dangerous, is it not?”

 

“Nah,” Emma shrugged, her eyes twinkling in amusement, “Bail jumpers ain’t got nothin on me.” She flexed her arm, showing off her bicept.  

 

Regina couldn’t help the laugh that burst forth from deep in her chest and Emma grinned at her.  

 

As Regina’s laughter faded, Emma looked around the still busy cafe, “I guess we should probably let someone else have this table.”

 

Regina’s gaze followed Emma’s and she couldn’t help but agree. It wasn’t right of them to occupy this table longer than necessary when the cafe was so busy. She felt strangely unhappy about having to go though. “Yes, we should.”

 

“So...uhh…” Emma hesitated, “Maybe I’ll be seeing you around?”

 

The question seemed strangely hopeful, although as Emma’s focus returned to her plate, picking up the last bite of grilled cheese and popping it into her mouth, Regina wondered if maybe she’d just imagined the hopefulness. Why would _anyone_ be eager to see her again? “Assuming my plans for continued volunteer work don’t change...I’ll look for you,” Regina finally answered.

 

The response was rewarded with a smile, “Okay.”

xxxxxx

 

Two days later, Emma was back at the cancer centre. Even though she knew it didn’t make sense that Regina would be there - she doubted the woman would volunteer more than once a week at an establishment that was an hour away from her hometown - Emma couldn’t help but scan the halls and the waiting room, looking for the other woman. She also couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment she felt when she didn’t see her. She wasn’t sure why but there was something about Regina that Emma felt drawn to. Over the last few days, she’d thought often of their somewhat strange lunch. It had been oddly enjoyable, despite the fact that she was pretty sure she’d come across as a huge slob and bringing up her cancer had been pretty awkward. Regina with her almost formal manner of speech, and her carefully chosen words, and her beautiful but guarded eyes that didn’t quite hide _everything_ she seemed to want them to, was intriguing.

 

Sitting in one of the exam rooms in the hematology clinic, Emma tapped her foot as she waited nervously for Dr. Eldridge to enter the room. Belle had been in already to do a quick check of how Emma was feeling, which was no different than the previous week, and had promised that she’d be back with Dr. Eldridge shortly.

 

She wasn’t left waiting too long and she bit her lip as the door swung open and the tall doctor appeared, followed by Belle who was carrying both Emma’s chart and a thick looking stack of paper.

 

“Hi Emma,” Dr. Eldridge held his hand out to shake hers, “How are you doing today?”

 

Emma accepted the firm handshake, shrugging one shoulder in response to his question, “I’m fine.”

 

Dr. Eldridge smiled as both he and Belle settled into seats across from Emma, “Well, I’m sure you’re anxious to hear the results of the tests you had done last week, so we’ll forgo any more small talk and just jump right in…” he paused only long enough for Emma to offer him a small smile and then he continued, “Not much has changed since your scans a little over a month ago. All your previously enlarged lymph nodes are a little bigger but there are no new growths and your bone marrow was clean.”

 

Emma let out the breath she’d been holding, nodding her head once to show her comprehension of her oncologist’s words.

 

“That means we’re still dealing with Stage 2,” Dr. Eldridge supplied, “which means I’m going to recommend a chemotherapy regimen called ABVD.”

 

AB _V_ D? Like almost the alphabet but not quite? Emma wondered what had happened to C. She didn’t have to wonder long though because Dr. Eldridge continued on.

 

“It’s a four chemotherapy regimen consisting of Adriamycin, Bleomycin, Vinblastine, and Dacarbazine. These drugs are all given intravenously and they get administered in cycles. Each cycle consists of two different treatments spaced two weeks apart. So you would get a treatment and then two weeks later you would get the next treatment and then that cycle would be over.”

 

Emma tried to keep up, gnawing on her lip as she listened. That overwhelmed feeling she’d felt during her first visit was rapidly returning as information was lobbed at her in what felt like rapid fire but was really probably a slow methodical pace.

 

“Belle has drug fact sheets for you to review and keep. They go over in depth the side effects both short and long term for each drug. But generally what you can expect is nausea, fatigue, and hair loss. For the nausea, we’ll be giving you a few different medications that should help. We’ll also be giving you some medication to help your kidney’s for the first round, to combat something called tumour lysis, which occurs when a large amount of cancer cells die at once.”

 

Emma took the stack of papers that Belle handed over as Dr. Eldridge continued on, glancing down at them briefly but quickly looking back up. If she lost track of the conversation now she would have no hope in hell of catching up - following along was already almost impossible.

 

“The other side effect you’ll read about in those sheets is chemo-induced menopause. With ABVD the menopause is usually temporary and the risk of infertility is less than 5%. For those reasons I wouldn’t recommend fertility preservation, mostly because it’s a time consuming process and I’d rather not delay the start of your treatment any longer. That being said, if it’s something that you feel strongly about, and the small risk of infertility is not one you’re willing to take, then we can set you up with a fertility preservation clinic and you can have eggs frozen.”   

 

Emma’s heart thumped loudly in her chest, the overwhelmed feeling nearly crippling now. She didn’t even know if she wanted children. It certainly wasn’t something she was prepared to think about or deal with now, even if she was essentially being forced to. Fertility preservation sounded expensive though and the risk did seem pretty small. “No,” she shook her head, making the decision that required the least amount of thought, incapable of anything else right now, “I don’t want to do that.”

 

“Okay,” Dr. Eldridge nodded, offering a small reassuring smile, eyeing her carefully, “I know it’s a lot of information to take in but do you have any questions about anything I’ve said so far?”

 

“Umm…” Emma blinked rapidly as she tried to run through everything she remembered being told so far, “Well...the treatments...they’ll just be here, right? I don’t have to get them in the hospital?”

 

Dr. Eldridge nodded, “That’s correct. You’ll get all of your treatments out patient. On treatment days you can expect to be here for the better part of the day but you’ll get to go home as soon as the infusion is complete.”

 

“Okay,” Emma nodded, relieved at least by that much.

 

“You can bring someone with you on treatment days if you’d like,” Belle spoke for the first time, “It’s a long day and patients often find that having someone with them helps.” When Emma just stared blankly, the nurse added, “We also have a free volunteer service that will pick you up and take you home from your treatment if that’s something you’re interested in.”

 

Emma frowned at that last statement. Would she not be able to drive? Emma didn’t dare ask the question though, afraid to hear the answer. The idea of having to rely on some stranger to take her to and from her treatments bothered her. She would take her chances driving. Or, if it came to it, she would use public transportation. “I think I’ll be fine,” she finally mumbled out.

 

“Okay,” Belle nodded.

 

“There’s only a few things left to discuss, one of them being treatment duration,” Dr. Eldridge picked back up, “With Stage 2 we usually go with four cycle of ABVD or three cycles of ABVD plus radiation. I’m going to set up an appointment for you to discuss the radiation option with Dr. West, our radiation oncologist. We’ll get you in to see her in the next month but it’s not too much of a rush since we don’t need to make the decision until after you’ve finished your second cycle. At that point we’ll redo the CT scan and the PET scan, and, depending on what those show, we’ll reevaluate the treatment plan and make the decision regarding the radiation at that time.” There was a brief pause and then he asked, “Any questions?”

 

Emma shook her head. Emma wasn’t exactly sure what _reevaluate the treatment plan_ meant but it didn’t sound great. She didn’t bother asking though - there was already too much information floating around in her brain.

 

“Okay,” he nodded, “So that just leaves one more thing to discuss. As I mentioned previously, the chemo you are getting will be infused intravenously. These drugs can be pretty harsh on your veins, so I would like you to have a Port put in to avoid doing any damage to them. A port is a device that gets inserted under your skin and gets connected to a vein in your neck. It gets accessed using a special needle and can be used both for your infusions and to draw blood. The nice thing about a port as opposed to other intravenous devices like PICCs is that because it’s inserted under the skin you don’t have to worry about keeping it covered when you’re showering.”

 

They wanted her to get a _what_? Emma rubbed the back of her neck as she looked back and forth between Belle and Dr. Eldridge. “Umm…okay?”

 

“I know it sounds a bit scary but trust me, you’ll be glad to have one. If you don’t get one now, we’ll likely just be having this discussion in a few months when your veins have had enough,” Belle offered reassuringly, “And the procedure to have it inserted is quite minor. It’s done with local anesthetic.”                

 

Still feeling uncertain, or perhaps just beyond overwhelmed now, Emma nodded slowly. “Okay,” she repeated, this time the word sounding much less like a question, “When...umm...when would I get that?”

 

Belle looked down at the papers in her lap and then was the one to answer, “We’ve got an appointment scheduled for you for Monday morning to get the Port put in. Would that work for you? We want you to get it as soon as possible because we have your first chemo treatment tentatively scheduled for next Wednesday.”

 

Emma blinked rapidly. Monday morning? As in three days from now? And chemo on Wednesday? After weeks and weeks of almost painfully slow progress, this it all seemed a bit rushed all of sudden. Shouldn’t she get more time than that to prepare herself? What was the rush?

 

Sensing her hesitancy, Dr. Eldridge added, “We can reschedule if it doesn’t work for you but as I mentioned before it really is important that we get started as soon as possible.”

 

Emma rubbed her forehead, resisting the urge to sigh as she shook her head, “No, it’s okay, that works for me.”

 

“Good,” Belle smiled that same reassuring smile, handing over another piece of paper for Emma to take, “That’s got your appointment times on it. Usually on a chemo day you’ll have lab work done, then come see us, then head to the chemo suite, but since it will be your first treatment and you’ve just seen us, you’ll skip the lab and the visit with us on Wednesday. Instead, you’ll start the day with Chemo 101. It’s a little information session we send all of our newbies to. It will just give you a bit more information about what to expect during and after your chemo treatment.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure how she felt about this Chemo 101 thing, it sounded a little too much like school, but she just nodded. What other choice did she have? Ready or not, in less than a week’s time she would be getting chemo.   


	4. One Drug, Two Drugs, Red Drugs, Blue Drugs

Emma woke early on the morning of her first chemo treatment, standing in front of her bathroom mirror for a long time, fingers brushing over the edges of the bandage just below her collarbone on the right side. The port insertion two days previous had gone smoothly enough, although she’d yet to see what the device looked like under her skin. The bandage would be removed for the first time today so that the port could be accessed for treatment. She shifted her fingers from the bandage over to the left, the tingling under her fingertips, nerve damage from the incision made during her biopsy, almost painful as she ghosted up and over her surgery scar. Cancer had already made physical changes to her body and she couldn’t help but wonder what more changes would be in store after today. Her hair would suffer for sure. But what else? She wondered if the person staring back at her would still exist tomorrow, or next week, or a month from now, or a year from now. What would cancer take from her? And would she ever get any of it back?

 

Emma sighed and finally tore herself away from the mirror, heading into her bedroom to slip on a pair of jeans and a v-neck long sleeve shirt, bracing herself for whatever it was that would happen today and all of the days to follow.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma chose a seat in the back corner of the room for the Chemo 101 session. Tucked away in the corner, she could observe without having to contend with everyone’s eyes on her  - not that her chosen seat stopped some people from spinning around in their own seats to not so subtly eye her with curiosity and that horrible twinge of pity Emma detested. She wondered if the novelty of her presence, of her age, would ever wear off. She could only hope - there was only so much staring she could handle before she lost it. She couldn’t be the only person her age to have ever walked these halls - even if she hadn’t spotted another patient even remotely close to her age yet. 

 

As two nurses in scrubs walked into the room and got settled at the front, Emma watched people pull out pens and note pads and she frowned. The only thing she’d brought with her today was her wallet, her phone, and the anti-nausea medication that she was supposed to start taking before the chemo treatment started. Apparently she was a bad patient.

 

She was debating whether she should lean over and ask the older lady beside her if she had a spare pen when the nurses at the front started handing out bound books, explaining that these were hard copies of all of the information they were about to go over and for each of them to take one.  _ Score one for underpreparedness _ , Emma thought, actually smiling as she took the offered book and eased back into her seat to listen to what the nurses had to say.  

 

xxxxxx

 

Chemo 101 was a strange mixture of excessively boring - more than once Emma caught herself as her eyes began to glaze over and her mind started to wander - and completely horrifying. She was sure that her expression must have been a little bug eyed when one of the two nurses explained that it would be prudent for patients to flush the toilet  _ twice  _ on days immediately following chemo treatment for the protection of the people they lived with. There was something just a bit ridiculous about being told that these drugs she was about to receive were safe enough to be injected directly into her bloodstream but not safe enough to expose anyone else to the minute traces that might be left in a toilet bowl only flushed once. Not that Emma actually had to worry about those particular instructions because she lived alone and literally never had visitors but it was still a little terrifying to think about. 

 

When the final slide was presented - a warning about getting to a hospital ASAP in the event of a fever and the importance of regular temperature checks - Emma bounced out of her seat and made a beeline for the door, dodging other patients and their loved ones as they hoarded towards the front, presumably to ask questions. Emma had no questions to ask. That’s not to say that there weren’t a million questions floating around her brain, because there were, but non that were worth asking, non that wouldn’t answer themselves in the next hours and days. Well, there was  _ one _ but it could not be answered by these nurses. It could not be answered by  _ anyone _ , except perhaps by a deity that most days she did not believe in. 

 

xxxxxx

 

There was still a half an hour before her chemo appointment time, so Emma stopped off at the cancer centre’s cafeteria, devouring a chocolate chip muffin and a cup of coffee.

 

When it was nearer her appointment time, she climbed the two flights of stairs up to the chemo suite. She gnawed on her lip as she waited in line to check in, handing over her ID and rocking on the balls of her feet when it was finally her turn at the front desk. It didn’t take long for her ID to be handed back, a plastic hospital bracelet to be fastened around her wrist, and a red laminated number to be held out for her to take.

 

“They’ll call your number when they are ready for you,” the receptionist explained.

 

Emma just nodded, taking the offered number, not bothering to ask why they wouldn’t just call her name, and spinning towards the waiting area to the right of the desk. Her eyes scanned the room. It was crowded. Very crowded. Her hopes of sitting in some corner alone were fading quickly. She sighed and re-scanned the room, trying to sort out the best place to sit. It was on her second pass over the room that her eyes stopped on a table that was set up off to one side. Or, more specifically, they stopped on a person.  _ Regina _ . Her anxiety at having to find a spot to sit diminished instantly, her search for a seat ending at least temporarily, as she headed towards the table instead. 

 

“Hi,” she smiled brightly, “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

Regina blinked slowly at her a long moment before her lips twitched, tugging into a smile, “Hi…” there was a moment of hesitation, as if she was debating something, and then she finished, “Emma.”

 

Emma smiled just a little wider at the sound of her name on Regina’s lips, before she ducked her head, mostly to hide the sudden slight blush of her cheeks. She eyed the contents of the table, which it turned out were an excessively large hat collection. She looked back up at Regina, “So what is it they have you doing here exactly?”

 

“They’re hats,” Regina explained the obvious, continuing quickly when Emma’s eyebrows rose in amusement, “For patients. Did you want one? Every patient is entitled to one.”

 

Emma shrugged, reaching out and brushing her fingers against the material of one of the nearest hats, a hideous pink thing made of some light material - cotton maybe. “I dunno...what do you think?”

 

Regina’s lips pursed as she considered it, her attention drawn away from Emma and towards the pile of hats. She reached forward and dug threw one of the piles, pulling out a knit hat made of soft multi coloured wool. She held out the red, white, and grey knit hat to Emma, “Try this one. It will match your jacket.”

 

Emma’s fingers brushed accidently against Regina’s as she took the hat and she pulled back quickly. “Thanks,” she nearly whispered, pulling the hat onto her head to try it out. Recovering quickly from being momentarily flustered, she grinned at Regina, “What do you think?”

 

Regina smiled too, the genuine kind of smile that made a person’s eyes shine, “It looks good. It suits you.”

 

Emma bit her lip, shrugging a shoulder, not really sure what to say now. She’d rather stay here and talk to Regina than go contend with sitting among the other patients in the crowded waiting room but she didn’t want to be a nuisance. Regina was volunteering and Emma was sure she certainly had better things to be doing than talk to her. Emma tugged the hat off of her head, holding the soft wool in one hand while she rubbed the back of her neck with the other. “Well...uh…” she looked behind her at the waiting room and then back at Regina, “Thanks again.” She hesitated only another second before she spun and went to find a chair.

 

xxxxxx

 

“Who’s your friend?” 

 

Regina startled, looking away from where she’d been following Emma’s path through the waiting room and over at Barbara. Of all the volunteers she'd met since she'd started volunteering at the cancer centre three weeks ago, Barbara was her favourite - a nice lady around seventy, who was kind and welcoming but who didn't chatter incessantly, or ask excessive personal questions. For that reason, her words weren't harsh as they may have been with another volunteer, just honest, “She’s not my friend.”

 

“Oh...I’m sorry. It just…” Barbara hesitated, “It seemed like you knew each other.” 

 

Regina’s eyes looked away from Barbara and over to where Emma had found a seat and was currently looking rather uncomfortable. She looked back at Barbara, “We've met a few times. Here.”

 

“Ah,” Barbara nodded, eyeing her with a knowing expression that made Regina want to look away. After a beat she continued, “Well, regardless, you should go talk to her...she looks like she could use someone friendly right now.”

 

Regina’s lips pursed together a moment. “That doesn't seem fair to you. You’ll be essentially volunteering alone if I do that.”

 

“ _ Regina _ ,” Barbara quirked an amused eyebrow, smiling at her, “I’m not suggesting you leave the country with her. Just that you go sit beside her for a while. If I need your help with something, I will be able to flag you down easily enough. Besides, the point of volunteering is to help the patients. That young woman over there happens to be a patient who is here all by herself and I think  _ you  _ are ideally suited to help her.” 

 

Regina wanted to argue for the sake of arguing - she generally didn’t take well to being told what to do. The only real argument she could make though was that she wasn’t  _ ideally _ suited to keep Emma company. It wasn’t the strongest of arguments. It wasn’t as if anyone else was anymore suited than she was. Besides there was the small matter that she actually  _ did _ find the idea of talking to Emma appealing. Finally, with a soft sigh, she nodded, “Yes, okay. I’ll go see if she’d like some company.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina remembered that Emma had ordered hot chocolate at the cafe but the cart of beverages and snacks that the American Cancer Society supplied didn’t include hot chocolate, only coffee and tea. Instead she poured two cups, one of orange juice and the other of apple juice, before moving slowly over to where Emma was sitting, staring out the window. She stopped and cleared her throat waiting for green eyes to slide from the window over towards her, the blank expression on Emma’s face brightening as she realized who was standing there. 

 

“Hello,” Regina smiled, trying to make this less awkward than it felt, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted some juice? I’ve got apple or orange.” She lifted the cups higher in turn so that Emma would see them. 

 

“Oh…” Emma’s eyes widened and she sat up a bit straighter, “uh, sure. Apple? I guess.”

“Good choice,” Regina held the cup out for Emma to take, wondering now what she was supposed to do with the orange juice - it wouldn’t usually be her choice. She could figure that out later, she decided. Right now there was the matter of why she’d come over here. She motioned with her head to the empty seat beside Emma, “Would it be okay if I sat for a bit?”

 

Emma shrugged. She would appear indifferent if it weren’t for the shine in her eyes, which gave away that she was pleased. Regina sat down carefully in the seat beside Emma, balancing the styrofoam cup of orange juice clutched in her right hand carefully on her knee. 

 

“Is it volunteer break time?” Emma quirked an eyebrow at Regina.

 

“Something like that,” Regina shrugged one shoulder, lifting the styrofoam cup up and taking a small sip. She didn’t exactly grimace but she doubted she looked pleased at the taste.

 

“Sorry, I guess I should have let you have the apple juice,” Emma shot Regina an apologetic expression. 

 

“No, don’t be,” Regina shook her head, “I’m sure it's some terrible no name brand that wouldn't come even close to holding a candle to my homemade juice. You really just saved me the disappointment.”

 

“You make your own apple juice?” Emma eyed her curiously.

 

“I do,” Regina nodded, “I have an apple tree.”

 

“Wow,” Emma looked impressed, or maybe just amused, as she sipped her juice.

 

They lapsed into silence, Regina looking away from Emma and around the room. She was surprised at how many people seemed to be glancing in their direction - both subtly and not so subtly. 

 

“Hey, could you..umm…”

 

Regina’s focus snapped back to Emma, who was doing a sort of shuffle in her seat, looking uncomfortable. 

 

“Could you hold my cup for a second?” Emma held her cup out towards Regina. 

 

Wordlessly Regina reached for it, watching as Emma pulled two pill bottles out of her bag, studied the labels a second and then shook what seemed like a fistful, some from each bottle, into her hand. Regina knew she should probably look away but her eyes never left Emma. 

 

Emma dropped the pill bottles back into her bag, holding her hand out to take the cup of juice back from Regina. “Sorry,” Emma mumbled, still looking uncomfortable, her eyes dipping away from Regina’s. The fistful of pills were gone with one swig of juice, swallowed with a gulp. Emma rubbed the back of her neck, and Regina could practically see her collecting herself, locking away whatever emotion it was that had been spilling out. When she looked back over at Regina it was with a sheepish sort of smile and that same nonchalant tone from the diner, “I didn’t want to forget to take those. I think it might have been bad. They’re the anti-nausea drugs. I'm not too keen on doing a Linda Blair impression.”

 

Regina wasn’t sure the best way to navigate this conversation but she took Emma’s lead, letting the conversation stray away from the serious direction it could easily head, instead focusing on the last part of what Emma had said, which she hadn’t understood at all. “Linda Blair?” 

 

“You know. The Exorcist? Rotating head? Puke? Lots and lots of puke?” Emme eyed Regina with complete disbelief as Regina just shook her head in the negative. “Seriously? You’ve  _ seriously  _ never seen a classic movie like The Exorcist?” Emma’s eyes twinkled as she teased.

 

“ _ Classic  _ seems like a bit of stretch, wouldn’t you say?” Regina quirked an amused eyebrow at Emma.

 

Emma just tsked at her, shaking her head. 

 

Regina sipped the disgusting orange juice, masking her smile.   

 

Emma shook her head again, “I can’t believe you haven’t seen The Exorcist. That’s got to be a tragedy.”

 

“Are you always this dramatic?” Regina eyed her in amusement. 

 

Emma just shrugged, smiling, her eyes on Regina as she tipped her styrofoam cup of apple juice into her mouth and chugged the rest of it.

 

Regina shook her head, suppressing a chuckle.

 

She was still trying to stop the laughter from escaping as Emma's face went from amused to suddenly pale. Regina frowned, wondering what she'd done wrong. Had her near laughter offended Emma? She'd thought they'd been joking.

 

Emma said nothing, reaching for something beside her, a red laminated square, her fingers clutching it tightly.

 

Regina followed Emma’s gaze over to the front of the room, where one of the chemo nurses stood in their excessive blue garb. She hadn’t heard the nurse calling out a number but she must have.  _ Oh right. They were in a cancer centre  _ \- Regina had almost forgotten there for a moment. 

 

Emma stood, still pale, “That's my number.” Her voice was strained. Her effort to maintain her unaffected tone not nearly as successful as usual.

 

Regina nodded, contemplating what to say and deciding on, “Good luck.”

 

Emma nodded too, her lips twitching into a tiny smile, “Thanks. And...uh...thanks for keeping me company.”

 

_ “ _ Of course, it was my pleasure,” Regina nodded once more. And even though that was just something polite to say, something she would have uttered regardless, she found that she actually did mean it.

 

Emma's smile widened a bit more and then with a soft sigh, as if bracing herself, she walked over towards the nurse who had called her number.

 

xxxxxx

The nurse who’d called out her number stood and waited for Emma near one of two entrances to the chemo suite. She was holding a rectangular styrofoam container filled with what looked like the bags generally hung from IV poles and she had a chart tucked under her arm. She was wearing some kind of blue gown over the top of her scrubs. It reminded Emma of a HAZMAT suit, minus the face shield. It seemed a bit like overkill and gave Emma the same vaguely horrified feeling that the flush the toilet twice advice in Chemo 101 had. 

 

Wordlessly Emma held out the laminated red square for the nurse to take. Her heart hammered rapidly in her chest, a rush of nerves twisting her stomach in knots.

 

The nurse, who was about Emma’s height with short brown hair and kind eyes, smiled at her, introduced herself as Mary Margaret, and led the way back into the treatment area of the chemo suite. 

 

Emma wasn’t sure exactly what to expect and her eyes widened as they entered the space. The area was divided into two rectangular rooms, separated by a wide hallway that afforded sightlines into each room. Mary Margaret turned at the intersection and led Emma into the left room. Reclining chairs lined the walls, one after another after another, a few rows of hospital beds were set up in the middle of the room, with what appeared to be a nurses station of some kind taking up the remainder of the space in the middle. As Mary Margaret led Emma to one of the chairs along the back wall, Emme couldn’t help but eye the people in the chairs they passed. She recognized most of them from the waiting room - she’d thought they’d seemed frail and unwell there, but somehow they all looked even worse in here. Maybe it was the harsher lighting, or the tubes connected to them, but they seemed paler, sicker, more exhausted, as if they might possibly fade away at any moment, and it was terrifying. The knots twisted tighter in her stomach as she settled into the chair Mary Margaret pointed to.

 

Mary Margaret set the styrofoam container down on one of the chair’s side trays, her hand slipping over to squeeze Emma’s forearm, as if she could sense what Emma was thinking. “It’s your first treatment, right?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“Don’t worry,” Mary Margaret smiled reassuringly, as other nurses bustled around them, checking on other patients, “We’ll take good care of you.”

 

Emma gave her a small hesitant smile in response. 

 

Mary Margaret patted her arm once more and then withdrew her hand, pulling a pen from her pocket and opening up the chart that had been previously tucked under her arm, “Alright, let’s get the formalities out of the way. Name? Date of birth?”

 

Emma rattled off the information and Mary Margaret nodded, checking things off in the folder, and then leaning forward to check Emma’s plastic ID bracelet, one more check mark in the folder and she folded it back closed. “Alright,” she smiled again, far cheerier than anyone who worked in a cancer centre should probably be, “we’re off to a good start. I’m just going to get you some Tylenol, which your oncologist ordered because Bleomycin, one of the drugs you’re getting today, can give you chills. The Tylenol should help with that. Do you need water?”

 

Emma, still haven’t having found her voice, just nodded. 

 

Mary Margaret was barely gone two minutes, coming back with a little plastic cup with two white pills in it and a paper cup filled with water, handing them to Emma. As Emma tipped the pills into her mouth and washed them away with a swig of water, Mary Margaret fluttered around her, pulling the bags Emma had noticed previously out of the styrofoam container and hanging them from an IV pole to the right of Emma’s chair, one small clear one and one larger brown one. It was only now that Emma realized that the bags weren’t the only thing in the container, there were also two syringes, one filled with something bright red almost the colour of Kool Aid, one filled with something clear with a terrifying bright yellow warning label affixed to it.  _ Fatal if given intrathecally. For IV use only.  _ Emma swallowed thickly. Were they seriously going to give her something that could be fatal if it wasn’t administered properly? That couldn’t be real, could it? This whole thing was seeming more and more ridiculous by the minute.    __

 

“You have a port right?” Mary Margaret asked, apparently not having noticed Emma’s fresh wave of terror, or just choosing not to call attention to it. She waited for Emma’s confirmation before she moved back to the nurses station to gather more supplies. She came back with another bag for the IV pole, a large clear one that Emma actually recognized as saline, and yet another styrofoam container, this one filled with tubes and needles and bandages and all sorts of other stuff. 

 

Emma sat silently, unmoving, with wide eyes, as Mary Margaret opened some of the packages in the container. One was a sterile paper of some kind that she tucked into the neck of Emma’s shirt, letting it drape down Emma’s front and exposing the bandage covering the port in the process, the other was a mask, which she pulled over her own mouth, explaining that it was to protect Emma while they accessed the port. She carefully peeled back the bandage that was covering the port and Emma’s eyes dipped to try and get a look at the site, it was an odd angle but she could make out the neat line of dissolvable stitches just over the hard bump. She looked back up as Mary Margaret pulled more items from the styrofoam container, tearing an alcohol swab and cleaning the area, and then feeling around for a moment as she raised the needle like thing she’d removed from clear packaging.

 

“There’s bumps on the port that tell me where the needle is supposed to go,” Mary Margaret explained to Emma, “It should only hurt for a moment.”

 

The sharp sting, so much different than a needle, much more like a bee sting, was over almost as soon as it started. Emma didn’t even flinch.

 

“Just like that,” Mary Margaret smiled, and sure enough there was now a tube dangling from Emma’s chest. “We just have to flush it now, to make sure it’s clean and functioning,” Mary Margaret explained as she connected a syringe to the end of the tube and pushed slowly.

 

Emma grimaced, moving her tongue around in her mouth, surprised at the sudden bad taste there. 

 

“Bring some hard candies next time,” Mary Margaret told her, catching the expression on her face, “It will mask the taste.”

 

“What is it?” Emma’s forehead crinkled.

 

“It’s just saline,” Mary Margaret explained.

 

“Really?” Emma’s brow crinkled further. How could something that essentially amounted to salt and water taste so absolutely horrible?

 

Mary Margaret just smiled knowingly at her. She removed the saline syringe and attached another syringe to the end of the tube, “This is heparin. It prevents blood clots. It shouldn’t taste bad. We generally don’t get complaints about it.”            

 

Thankfully Mary Margaret was right.

 

Once the second syringe was removed, there was more fluttering around, with Mary Margaret disposing of the contents of the port access kit and hooking up the saline line from the IV pole to one of the access points on the tube now dangling from Emma’s port, pushing buttons on the IV pump to set the flow rate, the pump itself whirring to life, making steady noise as liquid began to drip from the saline bag, flowing down through the tube into port. 

 

“Okay,” Mary Margaret clasped her hands together once she seemed satisfied with the pump, “Here’s how this works. You’re getting ABVD. Adriamycin is this one,” she pointed to the red syringe, “I’ll push that one in manually, slowly over about fifteen minutes. Then comes Bleomycin,” she pointed to the small clear bag, “We’ll use the pump for that one and it will take about twenty minutes. After that, we’ll do Vinblastine,” she pointed now to the clear syringe, “this one is like the Adriamycin, I’ll push it manually but we can do that one quickly, it will only take a minute. And then all that will be left is Dacarbazine,” she pointed to the large brown bag, “we need to infuse that one slower, it will probably take about two hours.”

 

It seemed like a long time to be sitting in one chair but Emma just nodded, watching as Mary Margaret settled on a chair in front of her to get started on the syringe full of red liquid.   

 

xxxxxx  

 

The next three hours were slow but mostly uneventful with Emma spending the majority of the time reclined in the chair listening to music with her eyes shut. There was one incident halfway through when she’d had to use the washroom and she’d stood up and started to move and Mary Margaret had had to rush over and stop her - it turned out that the IV pole was plugged into the wall. The washroom trip itself had also been an event - Adriamycin apparently came out the same Kool Aid red colour it went in as, which was a sort of horrifying revelation. But when she was finally unhooked, a small piece of gauze placed over the spot where her port had been accessed, and her red leather jacket back in place, she couldn't help but think that the whole thing hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d envisioned it being.

 

She was a little disappointed that Regina was no longer in the waiting room when she exited but she didn’t dwell on it. She just tugged on the red knit hat that Regina had picked out for her and headed out to the parking garage to drive herself back to her apartment. She’d been worried that she might not be able to drive home after the treatment, Belle’s previous offering of a driving service weighing heavy on her mind, so she was happy to find that that wasn’t the case.

 

She was tired but she didn’t actually feel so bad.  

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina stopped on her way home from the cancer centre at Granny’s, a diner - well more like the  _ only _ diner - in Storybrooke. She crossed paths with Kathryn and her husband Frederick on her way up the path to the entrance, they were just coming out of the building.

 

“Regina! Hi,” Kathryn greeted, her tone of voice cheerful and friendly. Frederick adding a polite nod to supplement his wife’s greeting.

 

“Hi Kathryn, Frederick,” Regina nodded her own head in greeting to the couple. 

 

“Did you just get back from Boston?” Kathryn guessed.

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed. 

 

Kathryn smiled, “And how’s the volunteering going?”

 

“Well,” Regina offered another one word response, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jacket to protect them from the cold, her gloves simply not warm enough.   

 

“Make any friends?” Kathryn asked next while Frederick shuffled beside her, seeming as affected by the cold as Regina was feeling.

Regina’s lips pursed together. It was a strange question to be asking about a volunteer position. The purpose wasn’t for Regina to make friends and Kathryn knew that. “No,” the terse word left her mouth even as her brain brought forth the memory of Barbara assuming she and Emma were friends, even as she recalled the way Emma had smiled when she’d tried on the knit hat that Regina had picked out, even as she remembered Emma’s twinkling eyes and teasing tone as she’d heckled her for never having seen The Exorcist. Emma _ couldn’ _ t be her friend. Emma had  _ cancer _ . For all Regina knew Emma was  _ dying _ . As terrible of a person as she knew it made her, she just couldn’t let herself get attached to someone she would lose. She just couldn’t.

 

Kathryn glanced over at Frederick, something about her expression seeming much too amused for Regina’s liking, but when her head tilted back to Regina all she said was, “Well, we’ll let you get inside. It’s cold out here. But we should get together soon. Dinner at our place. Or something.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Back at home, Regina sat down in her office to catch up on some work - she couldn’t very well be taking a day out of her work week to volunteer and not be making up that time. She opened the spreadsheet with the Town's budget. It was perfectly balanced, of course, she’d balanced it herself, but that wouldn’t stop some of the less educated councillors from trying to poke holes in it. They always wanted money to be allocated to frivolous items (like repairing a clock in a clock tower that had been broken for as long as Regina lived here) without seeming to understand that money to do so would have to be taken away from necessities (like winter snow removal efforts). 

 

Her plan for this evening was to prepare for the questions she was sure to get at tomorrow evening’s scheduled council meeting. She studied the numbers in the spreadsheet for ten minutes before the cursor of the mouse drifted over to the Internet browser. She hesitated a moment before she doubled clicked, opening the browser and typing  _ Hodgkin’s Lymphoma _ into the search engine.

 

She was only taking a short break, she told herself. Five minutes and then she would go back to her spreadsheet. She double clicked on the first link and started reading.

 

It was two hours later when she finally stopped reading.

 

Emma probably wouldn't die, she decided. Emma was about to have a really rough few months though it seemed.

 

xxxxxx

 

That same night, back in Boston, Emma fell asleep on her couch at 8 pm, woke up at 3 am and dragged herself into her bedroom, not bothering to do anything but kick off her jeans and pull the covers up and over herself before she was back asleep. 

 

She didn’t wake again until 10 am the following morning, blinking groggily at the light filtering in through the cracks between the blind slats, rolling over onto her back and stretching as she took inventory of the way she felt. She hadn’t known what to expect, so she’d expected the worst. Expected that she wouldn’t leave the bathroom for days. Expected that that Linda Blair impression she’d joked to Regina about wouldn’t turn out to be so much of a joke but a reality. She’d gone as far as telling Tony that she would be unavailable to work for at least a few days and that she’d call him on Monday with a status update. And, yet, she sort of felt  _ okay _ . Sure she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept quite so long, something was definitely up with her mouth - it just felt  _ off _ \- and there was a vague uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach but  _ this _ was bearable.

 

_ Huh _ , she thought as she rolled out of bed, plodding to the bathroom,  _ maybe this wouldn’t be so bad _ . 

 

xxxxxx

 

The vague uneasy feeling in the pit of Emma’s stomach didn’t get any better as the day went on but it remained manageable, an annoyance, nothing more. Emma took her anti-nausea medication as scheduled and spent the day curled up on the couch watching TV. She made macaroni and cheese for lunch and ate the leftovers for dinner. By the end of the day she was downright bored.

 

The only real sign that chemo was having at least  _ some _ effect on her was that, even with having dozed on and off all day on the couch, she was sound asleep within minutes of curling up in her bed that night.

 

xxxxxx

 

The following morning, lying in bed and taking appraisal of how she felt once more, Emma was just as surprised as she’d been the day before. She still felt  _ okay _ . Maybe slightly worse than the day before but definitely not horrible. It was strange,  unsettling, almost. Things didn’t tend to go Emma’s way, they never had. The possibility that she could make it through chemo relatively unscathed was almost unfathomable.

 

Yet, when she took her last dose of anti-nausea medication that evening with dinner - soup she’d gone out to get from the Chinese restaurant down the street - she felt the fluttering of hope. 

 

_ Maybe this really wouldn’t be so bad.  _

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma should have known better than to have hope about anything - that was the first thing she thought when she woke up the next morning. 

 

Gone was the vague unease she’d felt the previous two days, replaced with full blown  _ horrible _ .

 

Her stomach was rolling like she was on a small boat out at sea in the middle of a storm and the sort of unpleasant taste in her mouth from the previous two days had somehow magnified exponentially overnight, it now tasted like something had maybe died in there, and, as if that wasn’t enough, it  _ hurt _ .  

 

It took her a half an hour to talk herself into leaving her bed to make a trip to the washroom - the pressure on her bladder finally winning out against her desire to remain still. By the time she was done washing her hands, the nausea had increased tenfold, and she stumbled blearily back to her bedroom, practically flinging herself onto her bed and curling up into the tightest bawl she could manage, slamming her eyes shut and begging her stomach to settle, begging the contents of her stomach to remain where they were. 

 

She had a bottle of back up anti-nausea medication that the doctor had prescribed but it was in the kitchen. It was a small apartment but right now it felt like that pill bottle may as well be half a world away. She couldn’t move. The only thing saving her from throwing up right now, she was certain, was this fetal position. The pills would have to wait.

 

xxxxxx

 

It was two hours before Emma even tried to uncurl from the fetal position. She had a brief thought that this would be so much easier if she had someone to help her, someone to just bring her the pills from the kitchen, but she quickly shut that train of thought down, growling at herself, and spitting out angrily, “Shut up brain,” loud enough that the sound bounced off her bedroom walls. 

 

She’d taken care of herself her entire life. She was good at it. Good enough to have survived this long at least. Now would just have to be the same. There was no other choice. There was never any other choice. 

 

She sat up, taking deep breaths, trying desperately to quell the waves in her stomach, as she rotated and set her feet down gingerly on the floor boards. Two more deep breaths and she was pushing herself up and out of the bed, moving slowly and carefully from the bedroom out into the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter as she filled a cup with water from the sink. She eyed the fridge and the cupboards, contemplating food, but as the rolling in her stomach picked up yet again she shook her head, snagging the pill bottle she’d come for off the counter instead and stumbling back towards her bedroom. 

 

She deposited the glass of water and the bottle of pills hastily on her nightstand and flung herself back into her bed, curling back up into the fetal position, her hands locked firmly around her knees, her teeth biting down hard on her lip, and the toes of one foot twitching out a steady rhythm meant to distract from the angry ocean in her belly. 

 

It was twenty minutes before she felt confident enough to uncurl, scooting carefully over to edge of the bed to reach for the pill bottle, shaking out two pills, and then reaching for the glass of water, taking the tiniest sip to help guide the pills down her throat.

 

The water glass and the pill bottle set back on her nightstand, Emma curled back up into a ball, pulling her blankets tight around herself and begging sleep to take her away from this nightmare.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma slept fitfully on and off for the rest of the day. When she woke the next morning it was to the same aggressive nausea from the previous day and she groaned in disappointment. 

 

She felt more determined today though and decided that a shower might be a good start to making herself feel better. After all, she’d been in the same clothes for two days straight and, frankly, she felt disgusting. 

 

She realized her mistake about three minutes into her shower when dark spots began to appear before her eyes. She braced herself against the shower wall with one hand, closing her eyes, but even that was not enough to stop the dizziness. Fearing she was about to pass out and hit her head and die right here naked in this shower, she fumbled with the shower taps, turning the water spray off and carefully stepping out. With shaky hands she threw a towel down on the floor and lowered herself onto the ground, curling up into a ball. There was still shampoo in her hair and her wet skin in the cool air reduced her to shivering uncontrollably within minutes but slowly the black spots stopped threatening to invade her vision. 

 

Even with her vision restored, Emma didn’t dare move for a long time, not trusting her body in the least. She hadn’t had anything to eat the previous day she realized. The only thing she’d consumed being her backup medication and half a glass of water. That had most definitely been a mistake.

 

xxxxxxx 

 

Even though all Emma really wanted to do was curl back up in her bed, after she’d finally managed to stand again and quickly rinse the shampoo from her hair, and then after she’d taken half an hour to dress herself in clean pajamas, she forced herself out of her bedroom and into the kitchen. 

 

She wasn’t going to make yesterday’s mistake. 

 

She sat at the small kitchen table while instant oatmeal heated in the microwave. It felt like the longest two minutes of her life. When the microwave finally dinged that it was done, Emma rose carefully and removed the bowl from the appliance, snagging a spoon and moving over into the living room, sitting with her knees drawn tightly to her chest and the bowl of oatmeal balanced on top of her bent knees. 

 

She shuffled small spoonfuls of the oatmeal painstakingly slowly into her mouth. She wanted to stop after the first bite but she forced herself to continue. After half an hour, she’d managed to force feed herself half the bowl and she finally conceded defeat, setting the unfinished oatmeal onto the coffee table.  

  
Perhaps this was going to be her new reality. Painstakingly simply tasks, insurmountably difficult. It was a dreadful thought. 


	5. Losses and Gains

It took three more days before Emma felt up to doing anything more than shuffling between the rooms of her apartment, in a nauseous, sometimes dizzy, stupor. It was three more days after that before she felt even close to normal, which meant that there were only three more days before she had to drag herself back to the cancer centre. 

 

She used those three good days to bag a bail jumper, relieved, at least, to get to put some money in her checking account. 

 

The day that she had to go back to the cancer centre came much too quickly for her liking. She would be lying if she said the possibility of just not showing up didn’t cross her mind. Unfortunately though, showing up was sort of critical to survival and Emma was nothing if not a survivor. 

 

Her day started off in the lab, where her port was accessed and blood drawn. They left the needle in, the tube dangling freely from her chest, assuring her that this was a good thing, it would save her from having to have a second needle stick in the chemo suite, and sent her upstairs to the hematology clinic.

 

Things fell apart pretty quickly there. 

 

xxxxxx

 

“So, how are you feeling?” Belle asked, sitting across from Emma in one of the exam rooms. 

 

“Okay,” Emma shrugged. 

 

“How did you feel after treatment? Any nausea? Other side effects?” Belle prompted.

 

Emma just shrugged again, noncommittally, “Some.”

 

“ _ Emma _ ,” Belle fixed her with a knowing look, “I need you to be honest with me. We can’t help you manage your side effects if you don’t tell us what they are.”

 

Emma frowned, grumbling, “I was just nauseous. That’s all.”

 

“ _ How _ nauseous?” Belle inquired, not willing to let it go. 

 

“I don’t know,” Emma sighed, her shoulders sagging, her eyes avoiding Belle’s, mumbling out a response, “Pretty nauseous? I didn’t really leave my bed for a few days. It got better eventually though.”

 

Belle’s eyes widened, “How long did it last?”

 

Emma offered another shrug, “Till last Thursday?” The response was hesitant, almost a question. 

 

“That’s quite long,” Belle frowned, “You should have called.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she just offered a noncommittal grunt. 

 

“I’ll talk to Dr. Eldridge, he’ll prescribe you some additional anti-nausea medication for your next treatment…” Belle hesitated and then added, “which you actually won’t be getting today.”

 

Emma was half-listening, half-not, but her eyes widened at Belle’s last words. Wait.  _ She wasn’t getting chemo today? _ She must not have heard that correctly.   

 

“Dr. Eldridge will come in and see you and talk to you about it some more but your white blood cell count is really low today,” Belle explained, “Too low for you to get another dose of chemo right now. We’re going to let you rest another week and let that blood count come back up.”

 

“Oh,” Emma’s brow crinkled, her continued confusion evident. 

 

“This happens sometimes,” Belle explained, “We like to avoid prescribing a growth factor shot if we don’t have to, so we usually wait to see how patients react to their first treatment. We’ll definitely be adding a growth factor shot to your regiment now though to avoid the same thing happening again.”

 

“Growth factor shot?” The crinkle in Emma’s brow deepened, more confused now than before. What exactly were they trying to grow?

 

“Yes,” Belle nodded, “It’s called Neulasta, it will stimulate your bone marrow to produce more white blood cells.”

 

“Okay...” Emma still didn’t really understand but she supposed she didn’t have to, not right now. She rubbed the back of her neck, “So...I’m really not getting chemo today?”

 

“Unfortunately, no,” Belle confirmed. 

 

xxxxxx

 

After a brief visit with Dr. Eldridge and a quick trip back to the lab to have the needle removed from her port, Emma was leaving the cancer centre.

 

There was something oddly perplexing about preparing herself for a chemo treatment and then not actually getting one but Emma wasn’t about to dwell on it too long. Not when she’d been essentially handed an extra week free of toxic chemicals and their side effects. She called Tony from the parking garage and spent the next two days tracking down a bail jumper who was particularly elusive. 

 

Emma decided that after two weeks of mostly feeling awful, this free week away from the cancer centre was almost like a reward. An extra week where she got to feel like a normal person, wander around the city like a normal person, do normal person things, and, most importantly, pretend that she didn’t have cancer.  

 

It sort of worked.

 

For two whole days, it sort of worked. 

 

And then she woke up Saturday, had a shower, and tried to run a brush through her wet hair. The brush snagged half way down and confused she pulled it back. The head of the brush was missing, completely obscured by a pile of curly blonde hair darkened from being wet. 

 

She just stood there and stared and stared and stared at that brush, covered in hair, covered in  _ her  _ hair, for what felt like forever. 

 

Eventually, almost of their own accord, her fingers carefully pried the mass of blond hair out of the brush and let it fall from her hand into the bathroom garbage pail. It was an almost out of body experience as she stood rigid in front of the bathroom mirror and raised the brush back to her head, ran it through her hair until it got caught, pulled it back, extracted the hair from the brush, dumped the hair into the garbage pail, and then repeated the action over and over and over again, until the garbage pail was full, overflowing actually, and half of the hair on her head was gone.

 

She hadn’t considered this part. She’d known her hair would fall out, of course, but she hadn’t considered the  _ how _ of it all. Hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t just wake up one morning bald. Hadn’t considered  _ how _ her hair would actually leave her head. Hadn’t considered that she would have to be complicit, an active participant, in its removal, in the removal of this piece of her identity.

 

It was stupid, she knew, it was  _ only _ hair. It would grow back. It wasn’t even the worst side effect, not when held up against the horrible nausea she’d woken to two weeks previous. And yet, she left half of her hair in a garbage pail in her bathroom, stumbled into the living room, slumped down onto the couch, drew her knees to her chest and began to cry. 

 

She hadn’t cried once since the word  _ cancer  _ had been directed at her but sobs bubbled out of her chest now, an unending slew of tears spilling heavy and hot down her cheeks, and she didn’t even bother to try and stop them.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma’s hair loss continued throughout the remainder of the week. She woke up every morning to a pillow case covered in hair, found hair in every corner of her apartment, and by the time it was Wednesday again, she was down to what she estimated to be a quarter of her hair. Given how much of it she’d collected over the last days it seemed like a miracle, really, that she had any left at all.

 

Preparing to leave for the cancer centre that morning, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror for an excessively long time, touching the patches where her scalp was now showing, bald and impossibly smooth, before she finally pulled on the knit hat Regina had picked out for her. With the hat on, and the scraggly ends of her remaining hair poking out from the bottom of it, no one would likely even know that she was balding. Somehow that didn't matter though, it still felt as if there was a stranger staring back her in this mirror.

 

She stared a moment longer and then with a heavy sigh headed out of her apartment, climbing into the bug and driving herself to the cancer centre. 

 

xxxxxx

 

The morning started as a repeat of the previous attempt at chemo number two - port access and blood draw in the first floor lab, followed by a visit to the hematology clinic. This time, however, Emma was given the okay to head from the hematology clinic to the chemo suite. She was also handed a prescription for the growth factor shot she needed - which it turned out wasn’t something that would be added to her chemo treatment but was a needle all on its own that she would have to give herself two days following today’s treatment. She must have looked appropriately horrified at that revelation because Belle had rushed to assure her that this first time they would have her come in and she would show Emma how to do it.

 

Emma dropped the prescription off at the cancer centre pharmacy on her way to the chemo suite and then went to get checked in. Twisting the plastic bracelet on her wrist, she looked hopefully around the waiting room, searching for Regina, but the volunteers manning the hat booth today were an older gentleman and an older lady whom Emma didn’t recognize. Disappointed, and then angry at herself for being disappointed,she slunk to the back of room, finding an empty chair and averting her eyes from the curious ones watching her. The novelty of her presence hadn't worn off yet, she supposed. 

 

xxxxxx

 

This second chemo treatment was exactly and nothing like the first. The procedure was the same, Mary Margaret was even the nurse assigned to her care again, but, where she’d felt tired but otherwise fine at the end of her first treatment, today Emma felt awful. She was exhausted and nauseous and freezing.

 

At one point, Mary Margaret covered her in a warm blanket, rubbing her arms as she hummed sympathetically, “I think you’ve got a case of anticipatory nausea. Your brain knows these drugs are going to make you feel sick, so it’s jumped ahead.”   

 

_ Of course _ it had. Her brain was idiotic and this was exactly her luck. Emma didn’t say those things but she thought them.

 

Now she was sitting in her bug, head resting against the steering wheel, trying to muster up the energy required to drive herself safely home. She was quickly coming to realization that she was either going to have to take a nap in the back seat or call a cab and come back for her car later when her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap on the window.  

 

Her head snapped up and she studied the person on the other side of the window curiously.

 

xxxxxx

Regina had been paired with Barbara for her volunteer shift again that day, which had been a welcome relief. She did rather like Barbara. They’d been placed in the breast cancer clinic instead of on what was becoming Regina’s regular shift in the chemo suite and Regina had been quietly disappointed. She’d been hoping to run into Emma today and being placed in the chemo suite, or perhaps in hematology, was the best chance for that to happen. It was now the third week in a row that she hadn’t seen the blonde though and she was starting to think that maybe they wouldn’t cross paths again. It was probably a sign from the universe, she’d convinced herself, bitterly.

 

After saying goodbye to Barbara and signing herself out at the front desk, Regina headed out to the parking garage. She had her keys out, heading purposely towards her car, when she caught sight of the slumped form in a yellow volkswagen beetle. Worried, she rushed towards the vehicle and tapped on the window. She was already pulling out her cell phone, preparing to call for help, fully expecting no response, when the head bobbed up. She startled at the sudden motion, her eyes widening even further in surprise when she realized that she recognized the person sitting in the vehicle.

 

When Emma just stared at her through the glass for a long moment, Regina made a motion with her hand, indicating for Emma to roll down the window. Emma’s eyes widened instantly in understanding and she did as instructed.

 

“Are you okay?” Regina breathed out as she studied Emma’s face. Without the obstruction of the glass she could now see just how pale Emma was. She was a horrible gray colour and Regina was starting to think she might still need her phone to call for help after all. 

 

“Peachy,” Emma tried to smile but without any colour in her cheeks and uncharacteristic dullness in her eyes it wasn’t a very successful attempt.

 

Regina frowned, “Do you need to go back to the cancer centre?”

 

“No, no,” Emma shook her head rapidly, “I’m good. Fine. I’m fine.”

 

The rambling wasn’t convincing Regina in the least. “You don’t look fine.”

 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Emma whined, her eyes narrowing playfully despite their tiredness, “That’s not nice.”

 

Regina shook her head. Was Emma seriously trying to joke right now? When she looked awful and Regina’s worry was only mounting by the moment? “ _ Emma _ ,” she quirked an eyebrow, eyeing her seriously.

 

“ _ Regina _ ,” Emma rasped back and when Regina eyed her incredulously she half grinned, “What? I thought this was the part where we proved we remember each other’s names.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. “This is the time to be serious, please.” There was a hint of panic in her voice that she couldn’t keep out, enough that Emma’s grin fell. Regina sighed softly, “I need to know if you’re alright or if you need medical assistance.”

 

Emma sighed too, “I’m fine. No medical assistance required. Just a little...out of it. Chemo did a number today, I guess,” she shrugged, looking away from Regina and up at the roof of the car, “I’ll just call a cab to take me home.”

 

Regina studied Emma carefully, silent a long moment, and then she made a decision. “I’ll take you.”

 

Emma’s eyes snapped from the roof back over to Regina, confusion rimming her eyes, “I - I...I wouldn’t want you to have to go out of your way. I can just call a cab. Really.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m here now, I can have you home before a cab would even arrive.” Regina was nothing if not stubborn once she’d decided something and she’d decided she was taking Emma home. She was not about to take no for an answer.

 

Emma looked like she was going to protest. She even opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if trying to sort out what to say but something - perhaps Regina’s determined expression, or perhaps just general agreement with Regina’s point - stopped her. Eventually Emma’s head bobbed up and down in hesitant acquisition, “Yeah, okay. That would be...great. Thanks.” She reached for something on her passenger seat and then slid out of the car, a bag sliding over her shoulder and another smaller blue bag with the cancer centre logo emblazoned on the front of it clutched in her hand. She closed the window back up, shut the car door, and locked the vehicle up tightly.

 

Silently Regina led the way to her Mercedes, watching Emma carefully the whole way, prepared to reach out to steady her if need be, although the need never arose.  

 

“Nice car,” Emma admired as she climbed into the passenger seat, dropping the bag from her shoulder onto the floor, and placing the blue bag in her lap as she did up her seat belt.

 

“Thank you,” Regina nodded, climbing in as well and doing up her own seat belt. Her eyes lingered on the bag in Emma’s lap a moment, wondering what it was but not wanting to ask.

 

Emma picked up on her curiosity though and she unzipped the bag, holding it up so that Regina could see the ice pack and the clear packaging with a blue needle inside. “Apparently needles that need to be refrigerated are now a regular staple in my life. You know, because things just keep getting better and better.” The sarcasm was dripping from Emma’s words. 

 

_ I’m sorry _ , we’re the words on the tip of Regina’s tongue but they were horribly placating words and she didn’t let them escape. She watched Emma zip the bag back up and instead of acknowledging the needle said instead, “You’re wearing the hat I picked out.”

 

Emma’s hand reached up to touch it, as if needing the confirmation that it was still there, “I am,” she nodded, a faint smile ghosting across her pale face, “I like it. It's warm.”

 

Regina smiled back, “Well, it looks nice on you.”

 

“Thanks,” Emma bit her bottom lip, looking away from Regina and out the window.

 

Regina’s eyes lingered on Emma a moment longer and then she turned her attention forward, starting her vehicle and pulling out of the parking garage. “Where to?” she asked once they were on the street.

 

They drove in mostly silence with Emma giving directions as they approached crossroads, her eyes seeming droopier and droopier by the minute. 

 

It was only a ten minute drive before Emma was pointing at her apartment building. Regina pulled over in front of it, turning the engine off. “Do you need help getting in?”

 

“No, no,” Emma shook her head, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and unsnapping her seat belt, “I’ll be fine.”

 

Regina eyed her uncertainly, silent a long moment. She should just let Emma go, Emma was clearly tired,  _ exhausted _ , and yet a question nagged incessantly at her brain and she just couldn’t seem to make it go away. “Can I ask you something?” She spoke carefully, hesitant almost. 

 

Emma’s head titled, eyeing Regina curiously, her expression showing wariness but she nodded anyway.

 

“How come you were going to drive yourself home from the cancer centre? Shouldn’t someone have been picking you up?” Regina asked the question carefully, not wanting to offend Emma but genuinely wanting to know the answer. It was something she’d been wondering about the entire drive. There was something about Emma going to and from the cancer centre alone that bothered her. Very few patients arrived at the cancer centre alone. Actually, Emma was really the only one Regina had noticed. It made her angry. Angry at whomever the people in Emma's life were who weren't supporting her. How could the people in Emma's life leave her to fend for herself? Didn't they understand how sick Emma was? Didn’t they understand the kind of support she needed? After all, Regina  _ knew _ . She'd read all about the needs of cancer patients, specifically of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma patients, in a few hours of research three week previous. Shouldn't Emma's friends? family? _ someone _ ? have cared enough to do their own research? Shouldn't those people be tripping over each other trying to take care of her now? For whatever reason, Regina was infuriated on Emma's behalf.

 

Emma gnawed on her lip and for a minute Regina didn’t think she was going to get an answer but then Emma looked away, staring out the front windshield, and mumbled quietly, “There’s no one to take me.”

 

“No one?” Regina hadn’t meant for the words to slip out, hadn’t meant to sound so disbelieving, and she was considering the best way to apologize, to take it back, when Emma just shrugged.

 

“Yep. Not a single one. Good times, huh?” The words were flat, accompanied by a humourless laugh that was probably meant to sound unaffected but just managed to sound sad. 

 

There were so many more questions Regina wanted to ask now but none of them were appropriate. Not when she’d basically just pried this information out of Emma. “ _ Emma,” _ the name was a whisper, soft and gentle.

 

Emma looked over at Regina, her face pale and unreadable, and then her lips twitched into a shaky smile, her eyes practically begging Regina not to press, “It’s not, like, a big deal. I’m used to it.”

 

Regina doubted that that was true. Being alone was something she understood. She truly did. She understood that it was  _ not _ something that could be gotten used to. That was just a lie. She would know - it was a lie she’d told herself often, over and over again, up until the point she just couldn’t believe herself anymore and she’d decided on the baby. It wasn't up to her to call Emma on her own lie though, not when Emma was sitting here looking so unwell, not when Emma was silently pleading with Regina, and certainly not when calling Emma on her lie would require Regina to expose her own vulnerability on the subject. 

 

“Well…” Regina started, instead choosing words she felt certain would dispel the tension, “I've always been of the opinion that people are overrated, anyway.”

 

Emma blinked rapidly, her surprise evident, but then she relaxed visibly, relieved. She offered Regina a slow smile, “Most of the ones I’ve encountered certainly are.”

 

Regina smiled back ruefully, slow and understanding.

 

After a beat, Emma cleared her throat, her hand reaching for the door handle, “Well...uhh...thanks for the ride…”

 

“Wait,” Regina stopped her, the word a little too sharp and she swallowed, wondering not for the first time in this conversation what exactly she was doing. She still couldn't seem to stop herself though, “I was just thinking…your treatments are every other Wednesday, correct?”

 

Emma looked confused, her brow furrowing into a frown. It only occurred to Regina then that Emma might assume something other than the truth about how Regina had her treatment scheduled pegged down. Emma likely wouldn’t assume that Regina had done research on Hodgkin’s and understood how the treatment schedule worked. Perhaps she would assume something much more nefarious  - like Regina had been following her. 

 

Emma didn't look scared though and before Regina could clarify, she just shrugged, “Yeah, that’s right.”

 

Regina nodded, “Well, Wednesday’s are my volunteer shift days. What if I were to pick you up and take you home from the cancer center?” 

 

Emma blinked slowly, rubbing the back of her neck, “Umm...well...that’s really nice. But I... just wouldn't want to be such a bother.”

 

“Nonsense,” Regina shook her head, “I wouldn’t have offered if I thought it was a bother.” Regina could tell Emma was about to protest and she rushed to continue, suspecting that she knew a tactic that would work, “Besides, I would really just be doing my duty to society. I don't think it's very safe to knowingly unleash you and that flashy vehicle of yours on the city when you feel like  _ this _ .”

 

“My car isn't flashy,” Emma's eyes narrowed as she protested. 

 

“It's yellow,” Regina shrugged one shoulder unapologetically as an answer, “It calls all kinds of attention to itself. Do you really want to be calling that kind of attention to yourself while you’re knowingly driving unsafely?”

 

Emma’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if trying to sort out an argument but giving up. Instead she pouted, “I like that it's yellow.”

 

“I'm sure you do,” Regina shrugged that same shoulder again, the corners of her lips twitching up into an amused smile. She was pleased with herself that she’d been correct in guessing that Emma would respond better to this sort of teasing logic than to sympathy. 

 

Emma pouted a moment longer but then she shrugged too, “ _ Fine _ .”

 

“Fine?” Regina quirked an eyebrow. 

 

“I accept your offer to drive me home,” Emma conceded, “...but only if you take back the part about my car being ugly.”

 

Regina shook her head, unable to contain an amused smile now. “I can see how the car might appeal to you…” Regina could have easily just taken it back, or pointed out that she hadn’t actually called it ugly, but there was something about the adorable way Emma glared that just made her want to keep teasing. “Now give me your phone, please, I'll add my number.”

 

Emma forked over her phone with a shake of her head and a glare that was less glare and more twinkling eyes.

 

Regina made quick work of adding her contact info into Emma's phone and handing it back to her. “Text me your appointment time. I'll pick you up on my way to the cancer centre.”

 

Emma yawned, the twinkling in her eyes being clawed back quickly by the overwhelming exhaustion and sudden vulnerability. “Okay, thanks,” she said quietly. 

 

“You're welcome,” Regina nodded, adding, “I hope you feel better after some rest,” as Emma climbed out of the vehicle.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma climbed the stairs up to her apartment slowly. A year ago it hadn't occurred to her that an elevator might be a necessity - now she eyed the three flights of stairs with dread.

 

It took her twice as long to climb as usual but eventually she made it into her apartment, placing the cooler bag with the needle in it into the fridge beside a container of yoghurt, shaking her head at it. It was just one more thing added to an ever growing list of crappy things. She shook her head again, closed the fridge, and shuffled over to the couch. 

 

She didn't bother to turn the television on, instead staring blankly into space as she contemplated the strange encounter she'd just had with Regina.

 

Had Regina really offered to be what essentially amounted to her chauffeur? Had Emma really agreed? Emma knew she should probably text Regina right then and tell her to forget about it. It was a horrible idea for so many reasons. Relying on anyone but herself never ended well - life had taught her that lesson more than once. 

 

And, yet, Emma was simply too tired to care about whether or not she was making a mistake. Not tired like she needed to sleep, even though she was that kind of tired  _ too,  _ but tired like weary, like life had knocked her down one too many times and she wasn't sure anymore if she wanted to try and get back up, or whether or not she even  _ could _ . So, if a beautiful woman whom she found intriguing wanted to drive her to and from the cancer centre, who was she to say no to her? So what if the offer was most likely borne out of pity at Emma's sad plight? Not that Emma had actually  _ seen _ pity in Regina’s eyes per say. She'd fully expected it to be there but instead had found a much more confusing emotion on the other woman's face - something akin to understanding. But even if she hadn’t seen it, it didn’t make sense for Regina’s offer to be for any other reason. How could Regina  _ not  _ pity here? How could anyone look at Emma now and see anything but a sad lonely pathetically unwell cancer patient?

 

Emma shook her head, shaking away the incessant self-loathing inner dialogue with a heavy sigh. 

 

She turned the TV on, curled up on her side on the couch, and drifted off to sleep. She had the most vivid dream that Regina was standing in her kitchen sipping coffee and smiling at her. It was frighteningly realistic in the way her dreams rarely were - every detail of her kitchen perfectly replicated by her brain, including the exact shade of beige her walls was painted and the scuff on the cabinet beside the fridge. She wondered if maybe this, the vivid dreaming, was yet another chemo side effect. Or maybe she just had Regina on her brain.   

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina could hear the phone ringing as she slid her key into the lock of her front door. With her jacket and shoes still on, she rushed to pick up the phone, the sudden rush of anticipation that this might  _ finally _ be the adoption agency calling was impossible to quell. It was the same rush of adrenaline she got every time the phone rang. 

 

“Good afternoon, Regina Mills speaking,” she spoke into the phone, her customary greeting.

 

“Regina, darling,” the voice on the other end of the phone drawled slow and smooth.  

 

Anticipation sunk quickly, replaced with disappointment and something that wasn’t quite dread but wasn’t anything good either. “Mother,” Regina’s jaw set. Cora only ever called when she wanted something. 

 

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Cora tskd through the phone.

 

Regina shook her head, rolling her eyes to herself as she took the cordless phone with her back to the entranceway to remove her jacket and her shoes. She ignored her mother’s snide remark and instead asked, “What can I do for you today mother?”  

 

“Why must you assume I want something, Regina? Can’t a mother call her daughter without ulterior motives?”

 

“Of course,” Regina rolled her eyes to herself again, balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she hung her coat on a hanger. “How are you?” she tried a different approach.

 

“I’m well,” Cora confirmed, “And you, darling? How is my future congresswoman?”

 

_ And there it was _ . Regina supposed she should have expected this call sooner. “Please do not call me that. I told you before that it was only something I was contemplating. Perhaps for the future. You know I’m content in my current role as mayor. There’s lots of work to be done here.”

 

Cora made a tsking sound but made no further comment for an excruciating long moment, only the sound of her breathing coming through the phone. “Yes, well, it never hurts to be prepared for the future, darling. I thought I’d taught you that…” there was another pause, “Speaking of. How are things going with the publicist I recommended? That Kathryn woman refuses to tell me anything. Insists that she needs your permission to disclose any information, which I think is preposterous considering her employment was  _ my  _ idea.”

 

Regina almost laughed at the outrage in her mother’s voice. She hadn’t known Cora had been calling Kathryn wanting updates - she felt a sudden wave of appreciation at the knowledge that Kathryn had been denying Cora’s request. “There isn’t much to report, mother. I’m volunteering at the cancer centre in Boston one day a week,” Regina explained as she moved through the house to her office, sitting down behind her desk to finish this phone call.

 

“Hmm,” Cora hummed, noncommittally, “And that is going... _ well _ ?”   

 

“Yes,” Regina tensed. Her brain brought forth an image of Emma sitting in her car. She knew better than to mention Emma to her mother. Her mother would certainly disapprove of Regina’s offer to help Emma. Her mother wouldn’t understand why Regina  _ needed _ to help her - Regina barely understood why. No, Cora Mills shouldn’t know about Emma Swan, Regina felt certain about that. And, yet, the thought that her mother likely wouldn't approve, only bolstered Regina’s confidence in her decision. 

 

“Well, it certainly isn’t the method of publicity _ I  _ would choose but if you are content, then that’s all that matters. It must be better than the nothing you were doing previously,” Cora’s tone was dismissive now, as if she really didn’t care, which seemed unlikely to Regina. There was a brief pause and then she continued, “Oh, also, I just wanted you to know that I won’t be around for Christmas this year.” She delivered the message carefully, as if it was an afterthought.

 

Regina froze, her brow crinkling in confusion. Had her mother just said that she wasn’t going to be around for Christmas? Was _ this _ and not the meddling in Regina’s life the real reason for her phone call? It was a strange thought. An unusual occurrence. 

 

“I’m going to Aruba.”

 

“You’re going to Aruba,” Regina repeated the words carefully, trying to wrap her head around them. It wasn’t that she exactly looked forward to Christmas with her mother, the trip back to her hometown hadn’t held must luster since her father’s death, but it was still a tradition.

 

“Yes, a friend of mine invited me. I didn’t think you would mind.”

 

“I…” Regina hesitated, swallowing thickly, “No, I don’t mind.”

 

“Wonderful,” Cora paused, “Well, I must let you go, I’ve got plans this evening. Take care.”

  
“Take care,” Regina repeated, frowning at the phone in her hand long after she’d hung up.  


	6. Snowstorms

Emma found the side effects from chemo treatment number two both better and worse than those from the first treatment.

 

The extra anti-nausea medication that Dr. Eldridge prescribed made a world of difference and, although Emma was in no way up to leaving her apartment the Saturday and Sunday following her treatment, she also wasn't one sudden movement away from being head first in the toilet, and the nausea only lasted the first five days instead of the first ten, so it was definitely a win.

 

The part that was worse came from the addition of the Neulasta shot. Getting the needle itself hadn't been so horrible - although Emma was at least mildly dreading having to give it to herself the next time - but the unexpected side effects had been. Belle had warned her about the possible bone pain but that hadn't really prepared her for the aching that had settled into her shins and forearms and her sternum and all the other bones she otherwise forgot existed by Friday evening. Building an army of white blood cells for her defense was apparently hard work. It was as if her bones were trying to claw their way out of her body and the only thing that even sort of helped with the aching was soaking in a tub full of warm water. It was a relief when that particular side effect finally faded away.

 

Now it was chemo treatment Wednesday again, and as she stood outside her apartment building waiting for Regina to pick her up, she couldn’t help but recall the bone pain and hope it was worth it. She hoped that when they checked her blood today, her white cell count would be high enough to allow her to get chemo. And if it wasn't she was going to be pretty angry.

 

She rocked on the balls of her feet, reaching up to adjust the hat on her head, that same one that Regina had picked out, as she spotted the Mercedes rounding the corner. She watched as the vehicle pulled up to curb in front of her and she rocked back onto the heels of her feet one last time, reaching forward and yanking the door of the car open.

 

“Hi,” she smiled as she climbed into the car, dropping her shoulder bag and the currently empty needle cooler bag onto the floor and reaching for the seat belt.

 

“Hi,” Regina returned the smile with one of her own before her face turned more serious, an eyebrow quirked in Emma’s direction, “It's awfully cold to be waiting outside, isn't it? You could have waited inside. I would have called you.”

 

Emma just shrugged.

 

Regina shrugged too before turning her attention to the road and pulling away from the curb.

 

Emma's knee bounced up and down, suddenly feeling awkward, although she wasn't really sure why. “Did you have a good two weeks?”

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed with a nod of her head, “It’s the time of year we finalize the budget for next year, so it was a quite eventful few weeks. Negotiating with councilors is always... _interesting_.”

 

Emma wasn't really sure what budget negotiations entailed but she had a feeling that Regina was probably good at them. “ _Fun_ ,” she smirked.

 

“Indeed,” Regina smirked too, looking over at Emma quickly before her eyes were back on the road, “How about yourself?”

 

Emma shrugged, her knee still bouncing up and down, “Can't complain.” It was a lie. She could complain very easily about a number of things. It wasn't that she _couldn't_ complain, just that she _wouldn't._ Not to Regina and not to anyone else either.

 

Although, based on the disbelieving look Regina shot her, it seemed Emma probably wasn't fooling her anyway.

 

xxxxxx

 

They parked in the over priced parking garage across from the cancer centre, Emma trying to snatch the ticket they would use to pay on the way out from Regina and Regina refusing to hand it over, fixing Emma with a look filled with fierce determination that had Emma conceding. She'd buy Regina lunch or something instead, she decided.

 

As they waited for the light to change so that they could cross the street, Emma shivered. The warm hat helped but with considerably less hair on her head, among other reasons, she seemed to _always_ be cold. A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose and she looked up. Several large flakes of snow were descending from the sky. _Huh,_ she thought, holding her palm face up to catch some of the flakes “It's snowing,” she said. It was late December, less than a week before Christmas, and this was the first snow they’d had. There was something about the thought that there might be snow for Christmas that made Emma happy - even if she didn’t particularly like Christmas.

 

Regina looked over at her and then up at the sky. “It would seem so,” her lips pursed, her gaze remaining on the sky until the light changed and they were crossing the road.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma hesitated once they’d walked through the front door, pausing at the antiseptic dispenser to pump some of the foam into the palm of her hand, rubbing it in carefully. “So...uhh…” she eyed Regina, “Where do they have you volunteering today?”

 

Regina looked over at Emma,  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll find out when I check in. My volunteer slot doesn’t start until 10:30.”

 

“Oh,” Emma’s eyes widened. It was only 9:25. Her lab appointment was at 9:30, followed by an appointment with her oncologist, followed by her chemo time slot at 12:15, which really meant she would be getting chemo at about 1:00 or maybe even 2:00 since they were always running behind _everywhere_ in this building. It hadn’t really occurred to her that her patient schedule wouldn’t match up with Regina’s volunteer schedule. “You should have said something. I could have taken the bus here.”  

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Regina shook her head, “I’m going to go down to the cafeteria to get a coffee and I’ll spend an hour reading a book. It’s hardly an imposition.”

 

“I…” Emma hesitated, rocking on the balls of her feet.

 

“Honestly,” Regina insisted, the look she gave Emma firm and insistent.

 

Emma lifted her hand up, wanting to run it through her hair out of nervous habit, and then awkwardly dropping it back to her side when she realized that was no longer an option, not with a hat on her head. “Okay,” she conceded with a soft sigh.

 

Regina smiled knowingly at her, “You’re not great at accepting help are you?” The words were soft with a teasing lilt to them.   

 

Emma blushed, rushing out an apology, “It’s not that I’m not grateful for you driving me here. I am. I really am. I just...I don’t want to be...”

 

Regina held her hand up to stop Emma’s rambling, her words still soft, “Hey, stop. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t think you were being ungrateful.”

 

Emma shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and mumbled, “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Regina shook her head, offering Emma a smile, albeit much more uncertain than her previous one, as if she was worried she had messed something up.

 

Emma returned Regina’s smile with a soft one of her.

 

Regina seemed to relax at Emma’s smile and she glanced down at her watch, “You’re going to be late for the lab.”

 

Emma didn’t wear a watch but she took Regina’s word for it. “Oh right,” she nodded, rocking on the balls of her feet, “I guess...see you later.”

 

Regina smiled, brighter than before, seeming almost amused by Emma now, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

 

xxxxxxx

 

The lab was packed, as usual, but was a rather uneventful part of Emma’s day.

 

A little over two hours later, Emma sat on an exam table in one of the exam rooms in the Hematology Clinic. Belle had already been in to inform her that her blood counts were great, significantly higher than after her previous treatment, which thankfully meant that the growth factor shot was doing its job and she could get chemo today. Now Dr. Eldridge was examining her, feeling the lymph nodes in her neck and then the ones under her arms. Emma sat still through the exam, focusing on not fidgeting.

 

“You’re lymph nodes are shrinking,” Dr. Eldridge told her, as he had her lean back so that he could palpate her abdomen, “I can’t even feel the ones under your arms anymore.”

 

“Really?” Emma asked as the oncologist finished his exam and she sat back up, gnawing on her lower lip, hopeful and hesitant at the same time.

 

“Yes,” Dr. Eldridge smiled at her.

 

“That’s...good, right?” Emma asked carefully.

 

Dr. Eldridge smiled just a little wider, “Yes.” He moved over to the counter to scribble out new appointment requisitions for the following treatment as well as a prescription for this treatment’s Neulasta shot, explaining more seriously, “We’ll be doing scans after your next treatment, so we’ll get a better picture of exactly how well the chemo is working at that time but it’s always a good sign when we can visibly see things shrinking.”

 

Emma nodded, gnawing on her lip at the sudden flood of nerves she felt at the reminder of the upcoming scans.

 

Dr. Eldridge handed over the papers, “Belle already gave you your appointment time to see Dr. West, right?”

 

Emma took the papers from the doctor and nodded, “Yes.” She’d already put the appointment with the radiation oncologist, which was scheduled for next Wednesday, into the calendar on her phone.  

 

“Alright then,” Dr. Eldridge smiled at her once more, “You’re all set. You can head off to the chemo suite.”

 

xxxxxx        

 

Emma dropped the Neulasta prescription off at the cancer centre’s pharmacy and headed to check in for chemo. As she waited in line she did a sweep of the as-crowded-as-ever waiting room, her eyes settling on Regina, who was standing behind the hat table chatting with an elderly lady standing beside her.

 

As if sensing eyes on her, Regina looked up, her eyes locking with Emma’s and her lips twitching into a smile.

 

Emma raised a hand, offering Regina a sort of half wave and a returned smile, before it was her turn at the front desk and she was forced to look away.

 

Once her hospital bracelet was fastened in place and the little red laminated card with the number 42 was in her hands, she headed over to the table. Both Regina and the lady who she didn’t know looked up at her. “Hey,” she smiled, rocking on the balls of her feet.

 

“Hi,” Regina returned, her eyes lingering a moment on the tube dangling from Emma’s chest, before she looked back up to meet her eyes, “How has your morning gone?”

 

Emma bit her lip and resisted the urge to reach up and tuck the tube connected to her port down the front of her shirt. She shrugged, “Smooth enough. How ‘bout you? Did you get to enjoy your book?”

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded, her eyes darting over to the woman beside her, “Have you met Barbara before?” She asked, her eyes turning back to Emma.

 

“No,” Emma shook her head, looking over at Barbara, “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Emma.”

 

“Hello dear,” Barbara smiled kindly, “I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances but it’s a pleasure to meet you nonetheless.”

 

Emma couldn’t help but chuckle, “They taught you the company line, huh?”

 

Barbara chuckled too, “Once you’ve volunteered for a decade, you pick up a thing or two.”

 

Regina eyed them both as if she didn’t quite get the joke but didn’t say anything.

 

Emma rocked on the balls of her feet again, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and shoving her hands into her pockets, eyeing Regina, “So...I was going to grab lunch since it will probably be forever before they’re ready for me. Did you want anything?”

 

“I’m alright,” Regina shook her head, “Thanks for offering though.”

 

“Sure,” Emma shrugged and then turned and left.

 

xxxxxx

 

“So,” Barbara quirked an eyebrow at Regina once Emma was gone, “that was the girl who is _not_ your friend.”

 

Regina couldn't stop the blush that crept up her neck. “Yes,” she swallowed, “Well. Perhaps we are nearer to being friends now.”

 

Barbara looked beyond amused at the response. “Yes, _perhaps_ ,” her eyes twinkled knowingly.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma had a sandwich in the cafeteria, procrastinating as long as possible before she headed back up to chemo suite.

 

She waved to Regina as she passed by but Regina was engaged in a conversation with another patient, so this time she didn't stop, instead shuffling to a vacant seat along the window wall. She plopped down into a chair and pulled out her anti nausea medication, swallowing the fistful of pills in one gulp, before her gaze drifted out the window.

 

She was surprised to find that it was still snowing. The world one floor down now blanketed in white.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Regina watched Emma out of the corner of her eye. Emma  seemed to oscillate between staring out the window and staring at her phone and Regina couldn't help but think that she looked lonely. She wanted to go talk to her but every time she got ready to head over to Emma, someone new was standing at the hat table - sometimes wanting a hat, although mostly wanting to chat, or needing directions somewhere.

 

By the time there finally seemed to be a lull, it was too late, one of the chemo nurses was calling the number 42 and Emma was standing and heading in for treatment. All Regina could do was wave at her as she passed by.

 

xxxxxx

 

“Why don't you bring the cookie tin into the chemo suite? See if anyone wants one,” Barbara suggested an hour later.

 

It wasn't an uncommon task, although it was a task that Barbara usually took care of. She was so great with the patients, it just made sense for her to take on that role that required such deliberate interaction.

 

“I…” Regina hesitated.

 

“Regina, dear,” Barbara jumped in, smirking, “You've been eying the entrance to the treatment area since Emma disappeared back there. Go ahead and go check on her.”

 

Regina wanted to protest but she found that she couldn’t really, not when she actually did want to go check on Emma. Eventually she sighed, nodding her agreement. She grabbed the cookie tin from the refreshment cart and headed into the treatment area.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina held the container out in front of her, smiling gently at an older man with no hair who was trying to decide between a chocolate chip or a shortbread cookie, while his wife patted his arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a nurse with short brown hair fluttering around Emma two chairs over. The nurse was adjusting buttons on Emma’s IV pump and speaking just loudly enough that Regina could make out her words.

 

The nurse was asking Emma if she was looking forward to Christmas and Regina watched as Emma visibly stiffened at the question, shrugging in response. The nurse, much to Regina’s annoyance, did not seem to pick up on Emma’s unease at the question and prodded further, asking what Emma’s plans were for the upcoming holiday. Emma’s face went blank and Regina had to resist the urge to rush over there and snap at the nurse to stop being so insensitive.

 

“I don’t have any plans.” She heard Emma say but she didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because her attention was drawn back to the gentleman she was standing in front of.

 

“I think,” he said, “I’ll go with chocolate chip.”

 

“How about,” Regina smiled, “You take both.”

 

“I dunno if Betty will let me have that many cookies,” He grinned at Regina, motioning with his thumb over at his wife, “I keep telling her I have cancer and I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to mean I’m allowed to do whatever I want.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes, but her expression was filled with nothing but fondness, “What he wants is to eat nothing but sweets. You’d think he was five.”    

 

The man just grinned unabashed.

 

“Well, go on,” Betty motioned to the cookie tin eyeing her husband expectantly.

 

The man grinned wider and he scooped the shortbread cookie out to add to his chocolate chip one, “You’re the best wife, dear.”

 

“I know,” Betty smiled.

 

Regina chuckled at the pair and then moved one chair over. The woman there didn’t want a cookie but her supporter, a man who looked like he might be her son, gladly took one of the cookies.

 

Regina shuffled over one more chair, now in front of Emma. The nurse was gone and Emma was reclined back as far as the chair would go, her legs crossed, and her shoulders hunched inwards as if she was trying to fold into herself, make her body small. She looked substantially paler than she’d looked this morning and significantly more unwell, much more like she’d looked when Regina had driven her home two weeks previous. “Hey,” Regina smiled.

 

“Hey,” Emma smiled back, “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

“Indeed,” Regina smirked and then held out the cookie container, “Did you want a cookie?”

 

Emma grimaced, looking nauseous just at the thought, “No thanks.”

 

Regina nodded her understanding, “Is there something else I could get you?”

 

“Nah,” Emma shook her head, her shoulders hunching even further into herself as she shivered suddenly.

 

“How about a blanket?” Regina quirked an eyebrow.

 

Emma shivered again, smiling sort of sheepishly, looking mildly embarrassed but nodding, “Yeah...okay.”

 

Even though she still had half the room to hand out cookies to, Regina set the tin down on one of the side tables of Emma’s recliner and immediately headed to find Emma a warm blanket.

 

xxxxxx

 

Nearly two hours later they were leaving the cancer centre. Regina eyeing Emma, who was even paler than before, cautiously, as they stepped outside.

 

“Yikes,” Emma halted as they were greeted with the scene outside.

 

Snow was still coming down heavily, the streets like some winter wonderland, pavement completely obstructed by the heavy accumulation of it, despite the snow plow that rumbled past.

 

Regina’s eyes widened. She’d known that there was a chance of snow today but this was significantly more snow than she’d anticipated. “Yikes indeed,” she agreed.

 

xxxxxx

 

It took them three times as long as it would in good conditions to get back to Emma’s apartment. The roads were a slippery mess and they had slid right through one intersection - fortunately no one had been coming the other way. Regine knew others hadn’t been quite so lucky, as they’d driven by more than one accident on the way here.

 

As Regina pulled up to the curb in front of Emma’s apartment, Emma eyed Regina carefully, her pale face tentative and filled with worry, “You can’t drive home in this.”

 

It wasn’t at all what Regina was expecting Emma to say. Her lips pursed as she stared out the window. She had to admit that Emma had a point. The thought of making an hour drive that would easily turn into three or four hours in such treacherous conditions wasn’t particularly appealing. She sighed, “Perhaps I’ll get a hotel room for the night.”

 

Emma eyed her with that same careful, tentative, expression, “Or you…” she hesitated, swallowed thickly, “you could just come up to my apartment. I mean... I don’t really have a spare room...but we could make it work. And that way you wouldn’t have to drive anywhere else...it would be safer...”

 

Regina’s head tilted as Emma continued to ramble, amused as she always seemed to be when the other woman started spewing words in this manner. “Okay,” she agreed finally when there was a pause in Emma’s speech. Perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea but the logic was sound and the appeal of not having to drive any further outweighed any hesitation she might have at spending the evening in the apartment of a woman she barely knew.

 

“Okay?” There was surprise and what almost seemed to be delight in Emma’s expression at Regina’s agreement.

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed with a head nod.

 

xxxxxx

 

They moved the car into the apartment building’s parking lot and then heading inside, climbing the stairs to Emma’s apartment. Regina pretending not to notice whenever Emma paused for longer than necessary on a landing, seeming to need the break to catch her breath.

 

Finally Emma stopped in front of the door to what Regina presumed was her apartment and pulled out a key, turning the lock and then pushing the door open.

 

Regina followed her inside and immediately took off her boots. They’d only walked a short distance from the car to the apartment building but it had been long enough for her boots to have collected snow and her jacket and hat to be covered in white flakes that were quickly melting in the heat of the building. She peeled her gloves and jacket off, followed by her coat, and then hesitated, holding the items in her hands, not sure what to do with them.

 

She turned her eyes to Emma who was shucking her own coat and gloves and boots. Emma’s hands reached up to pull her knit hat off but then they stilled, frozen, her tired eyes widening slightly, looking suddenly scared. She dropped her hands to her side, leaving the hat, which like Regina’s own outer clothing was quickly becoming wet from melting snow, perched on her head. It couldn’t be comfortable.

 

Regina didn’t exactly understand Emma’s hesitation but she said nothing about it, instead clearing her throat and asking carefully, “Where did you want me to put my coat?”

 

Emma startled but after a second she relaxed, yanking a closet door open and pulling out a hanger, handing it over to Regina, “Here, put it on there, I’ll hang it in the closet for you.”

 

Regina nodded, hanging her coat up as Emma did the same with hers.

 

Once the closet door was shut again, Emma scooped up her shoulder bag and the little cooler bag that Regina knew contained a needle of some kind, and led the way further into the apartment. Emma dropped her shoulder bag onto the table and pulled the fridge open, depositing the cooler bag in there. She then turned to face Regina, rocking on the balls of her feet, “I...uhh...I just need a minute. Make yourself at home, okay? If you want a drink or something. There’s water and some juice in the fridge. Glasses are in this cupboard,” she pointed, “And the couch is over there,” she pointed again.

 

Emma didn’t wait for a response, just disappeared into what Regina could only guess was her bedroom.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma took several shaky breaths as she slipped into her bedroom, moving over to her dresser and snagging a hat from a pile on the top of her dresser. She pulled the wet one from her head, looking at herself in the mirror over her dresser. Her ever-thinning hair was plastered to her scalp, there was no colour in her cheeks, her skin was a horrible nearly translucent grey colour, and her eyes looked seven seconds away from closing and not reopening. She was pretty sure she couldn’t look much more horrible than this if she tried. She sighed, running a hand through what remained of her hair, trying to untangle it before she pulled the new knit hat, a green one, over it.

 

“Okay, you’re okay,” she mumbled to her reflection in the mirror, taking another deep breath, before she headed back out into the living space of her apartment.

 

Regina hadn’t moved from where Emma had left her standing in the middle of the kitchen and Emma could feel the curious eyes watching her as she approached. Dark eyes seemed to settle on the hat on Emma’s head a moment too long but the question Emma expected didn’t come. Although, perhaps that wasn’t so surprising. Regina rarely asked questions.

 

“You didn’t want a drink?” Emma asked, leaning backwards against the counter as she eyed Regina.

 

“No, I’m okay,” Regina shook her head, taking the lead from Emma and leaning one elbow on the hard surface, turning her body so she was facing Emma.

 

Emma shrugged, “So…” she drew the word out slowly, “What did you want to do? You’re not hungry are you?” She eyed the digital clock on the stove which said it was only 4:15. That seemed too early for dinner. Not that she actually had a whole heck of a lot to offer in the dinner department but she was going to have to rustle something up eventually. Hopefully Regina like yogurt and oatmeal.  

 

Regina seemed to consider it a moment before she shrugged one shoulder, “I don’t want to impose on your routine. If this is when you usually eat, we can do that. If you usually eat later we can do that as well.”

 

Emma’s eyes narrowed. What kind of answer was that? “Umm...okay?” she decided, “let’s wait a bit.” She drummed her fingers against the counter and brightened, “I know what we can do.”

 

Regina quirked a curious eyebrow in her direction.

 

Emma grinned, “You can open your Christmas present.”

 

Regina’s eyebrow quirked higher, “ _My_ Christmas present?”    

 

Emma laughed at the comically confused expression on Regina’s face. “Yes,” she nodded, moving over to the table where she’d left her shoulder and pulling out the thin wrapped package. She’d intended to give it to Regina in the car but had almost forgotten all about it once they’d started driving on the treacherous snow covered roads.

 

Regina still seemed wholly confused, “You got me a gift?”

 

“Yes,” Emma bobbed her head again, beyond amused by Regina’s reaction as she held the package out for her to take.

 

Regina reached for the package, turning it over carefully in her hands. She frowned, “you didn’t have to get me a gift.”

 

Emma shrugged, “I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for driving me. t’s not, like, a big deal. You’ll see. Open it.”

 

“But-” Regina started but Emma cut her off.

 

“Just open it,” Emma repeated, grinning now.

 

Regina peeled the wrapping paper away painstakingly slowly, unfolding each edge with care. When she finally had the paper removed she stared down at the gift in her hand a long moment before she laughed, looking over at Emma, “You got me The Exorcist.”

 

Emma laughed too, gleeful despite her exhaustion, “I just couldn’t stand that you hadn’t seen such a classic.”

 

“ _Classic_. Of course,” Regina snorted.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma put the DVD in the DVD player and they settled themselves on the couch and turned the movie on.

 

Regina watched the screen intently, while Emma switched between watching the movie and watching Regina watch the movie. Or, at least, that’s what she did for the first twenty minutes, and then her eyelids got droopier and droopier, until they just simply refused to be open any longer  

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma woke with a start, her entire body flailing. She groaned, blinking confused as she pushed herself up into a seated position from where she was lying half draped over the arm of the couch. She grimaced as she realized she’d drooled all over herself and she reached up to wipe at the corner of her mouth. _Gross._

 

She felt someone shift beside her and she nearly jumped as her head whipped around, her eyes settling on Regina. The fog around her brain began to lift and she remembered inviting the brunette to stay here for the night due to the snowstorm raging outside. “Crap,” she mumbled, as she wiped at the corner of her mouth again, “Sorry. I...uh…” she looked over at the TV, which was no longer even on and then back at Regina. It suddenly registered that Regina was holding a book. “How long has the movie been over?” she rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment.

 

Regina smiled reassuringly at her, “Only about fifteen minutes.”

 

“Oh. Okay,” Emma sighed softly, resisting the urge to apologize again. “So...did you like it at least?” she asked hopefully.

 

Regina kept a straight face but her eyes twinkled, “It was _alright._ ”

 

“Just _alright_?” Emma scoffed.

 

“I think it contains a tad too much vomiting to be considered a classic,” Regina smirked.

 

“Oh come on,” Emma pretended to pout.

 

Regina laughed, shaking her head at Emma’s silly expression.

 

“Now you’re laughing at me,” Emma shook her head, lifting a hand to her chest in mock offense.

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed in faux-seriousness.

 

Emma threw a couch cushion at her, which Regina caught easily and settled on her lap.

 

“So…” Emma drew the word out slowly, using it as a transition, “Did you want dinner now? I’m not sure how much I really have to offer but I think I have some soup in the cupboard. Or probably the stuff we need to make pasta with crappy canned sauce.”

 

Regina’s head tilted as she seemed to contemplate that, finally deciding, “Soup sounds lovely.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Even though this was Emma’s apartment and Regina was the guest - the first guest Emma had _ever_ had here - Regina sort of just took control in the kitchen, urging Emma to sit at the table while she heated the soup on the stove and used some of the few measly other ingredients Emma owned to make grilled cheese.

 

Emma protested half-heartedly but she was feeling a little too light headed, and a lot too sluggish, to fight against Regina’s determined I’m-going-to-get-my-way expression, which admittedly was probably the reason for Regina’s insistence in the first place. Instead of arguing, she made quick work of setting the table, placing bowls and spoons and two glasses filled with water onto the hard surface, and then sat herself down in one of the chairs as Regina had suggested.

 

“Do you like cooking?” she asked curiously, watching Regina, fascinated by the ease with which she worked.

 

Regina glanced over at her, “Yes, I really do. How about you?”

 

Emma shrugged, “I find it...a necessity.” It was a necessity that was becoming increasingly difficult to contend with. Of all of the difficult things that came with having cancer and with getting chemo, she was finding her sudden aversion to food one of the hardest. Food was a tricky thing for her. When she was growing up, frequently there hadn’t been enough of it to go around and more than once she’d stolen to fill the hollow ache in her belly. It wasn’t until she was older and had an income of her own and the stability of knowing that there would always be food on the table at the end of the day that she’d really learned to enjoy food instead of just devour it. Where food had most often been associated with anxiety in her childhood, it was now associated with happiness. It was one of the few things that truly made her happy in an otherwise fairly lonely life. Or, at least, it _had_ been. She hadn’t even realized how much joy she derived from eating food she liked, until she suddenly didn’t like _any_ food. Sure there were still some good days but more often than not in the last weeks, eating had been a struggle, something she had to force herself to do. That struggle made her motivation to cook, something she’d never really loved anyway, wane terribly.

 

Regina’s head tilted as she contemplated Emma’s response. “I can see why it doesn't appeal to everyone. For me though, it's always been something that I find relaxing.” As she spoke she turned her attention back to the stove and flipped the grilled cheese she was working on.

 

“That's nice,” Emma smiled and took a small sip of her water, “I think part of my problem is that I'm not very good at it. So there isn't much satisfaction at the end. I'd much rather order food.”  

 

Regina glanced over at Emma, nodding in understanding, before she turned her attention back to the stove, removing the grilled cheese from the pan and setting it on the plate Emma had left on the counter for her. She carried the plate to the table, setting it down in the centre so that they could both take from it and then reached for the bowls.

 

Emma moved to push herself up from the table but Regina waved a hand to stop her.

 

“Stay,” Regina said, “I've got this.”

 

“But-” Emma started to protest.

 

“Emma,” Regina interrupted her, “Please stay sitting, I’ll get it. You look…” she trailed off as if it had suddenly occurred to her that whatever she was about to say might not be appropriate.

 

“Like shit?” Emma supplied.

 

Regina flushed, “That’s not what I…” she swallowed, “I’m sorry.”

 

Emma gave her a reassuring smile, “You don’t have to be sorry. I do own a mirror, I know I look…” she struggled to find a word to describe the hue of her skin, “...less than great.”

 

“You just look tired,” Regina offered, “which of course you are, you’ve just spent the entire day in a cancer centre.”

 

“ _Tired_ is probably the kindest way to describe what I currently look like,” Emma smirked.

 

Regina just shrugged a shoulder, saying nothing as she moved over to the stove to fill the two bowls with the chicken noodle soup she’d heated. Carrying them back to the table carefully so as not spill anything, she set one down in front of Emma and then set the other at her place setting, sliding into the chair at the table.

 

Emma scooped a small mouthful of broth onto her spoon, blowing on it carefully to make sure it was cool, before she shovelled it into her mouth and swallowed. She repeated the action a few more times before she reached for a half of a grilled cheese sandwich. She eyed the sandwich a minute and then looked across the table at Regina, “So do you have plans for the holidays?” She nibbled on the corner of the sandwich while she waited for a response.

 

Regina looked up from her own bowl of soup, her expression almost unreadable. “A friend of mine is having a Christmas Eve party. I don’t usually go because I’m typically in Portland visiting my mother...but she’s taking a trip this year, so we aren’t celebrating Christmas.” There was a flash of what might be hurt in Regina’s eyes but it was quickly masked.

 

Emma bit her lip as she tried to decide what to say to that. She didn’t have much experience with Christmas or with mothers. “I’m sorry,” she eventually said lamely, not coming up with anything better.

 

Regina’s lips twitched into a lopsided half smile, “It’s okay. Honestly, my mother isn’t the easiest person to be around, her telling me she was going away for the holidays might actually be a gift.”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled into a frown at Regina’s words. That just seemed so sad. It was one thing to not have a mother, it was completely another to have a mother that you disliked so much that you would even consider referring to her absence as a gift. “Oh,” was all Emma managed to say mostly because she wasn’t sure what an appropriate response would be.

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Regina rushed to clarify, misinterpreting Emma’s silence, “She’s my mother and I do love her. Of course if she was home I would gladly visit her for the holidays.”

 

Emma nodded, feeling bad that her lack of response seemed to have made Regina uncomfortable. “You don’t have to justify anything. I understand…” she started and then shook her head, “well...I mean. I don’t really _understand_ understand because I don’t have a mother. But I can imagine.”

 

It was Regina’s turn to be speechless, clearly uncertain of an appropriate response to that revelation.

 

Emma gnawed on her lip and then, perhaps because chemo related exhaustion had lowered her defences, or perhaps because she was still trying to make up for Regina feeling like she had to justify herself, she added in her best impersonation of an unaffected tone, “I was abandoned on the side of the road as a newborn. Spent my formative years shuffled through a series of foster homes. Never landed anywhere permanent.” It was more honest than she usually was about her past and as soon as she said it she looked down at her bowl not wanting to catch the pity that she was sure would flicker across Regina’s face.

 

“That sounds difficult,” Regina spoke carefully, her words sounding much less pitying than Emma was expecting.

 

Emma looked up from her soup, shrugging one shoulder dismissively, “It was what it was.”

 

Regina bobbed her head, the subtle nod an obvious acquisition to Emma’s desire to drop the subject, much to Emma’s relief. She went one step further and actually changed the subject herself, “So have you lived in Boston your whole life, then?”

 

“No,” Emma shook her head, “I was sort of everywhere and nowhere for a long time. I’ve only been in Boston a little over a year. I like it here though. A lot. The big city...it makes it easy to disappear, you know?”

 

Regina nodded, “Yes, I can imagine. I grew up in a big city. But in Portland...I was never quite as invisible as I wanted to be. My father owned a large law firm and my mother loved, _still_ loves, the limelight.”

 

“Oh wow,” Emma eyed her curiously now, “How does a girl who grew up in Portland end up the mayor of some tiny Maine town?”

 

Regina swallowed thickly, her expression flashing momentarily with something that looked liked pain before her features smoothed over. Emma hadn’t meant to ask a difficult question and she was opening her mouth to take it back when Regina spoke, her voice and expression distant, “I...lost someone important to me... and I suppose that’s when I finally realized...after all those years of wanting to disappear...that I just could. If I wanted to, all I had to do was get up and leave. So I did.”   

 

Emma held Regina’s gaze a long moment, saying nothing as she studied warm brown eyes, something heavy passing between them. Her heart ached for the woman sitting across from her. Regina had provided very little details but Emma didn’t need to know anything else to know that whatever had transpired had been painful for the other woman, painful enough that Regina had chosen to run. And running, well that was something that Emma understood better than most. Emma also recognized the look that was currently on Regina’s face, it was one she sported often enough, it was the look that said ‘please don’t prod’, and she easily agreed to Regina’s silent request, doing what she did best and offering levity in the form of a teasing, “So...let me get this straight. You wanted to disappear, so you chose somewhere small enough where everyone would probably know your name?”

 

Regina relaxed visibly, her expression showing gratitude a moment before her lips twisted into a  smirk, “Yes, well. I never said I was a genius.”

 

“I don’t know,” Emma grinned, “You’re like probably one of the youngest mayors ever. That screams pretty freaking smart to me.”

 

xxxxxx  

 

They finished dinner, Emma took a fistful of pills only slightly smaller than the fistful of pills she’d taken at the cancer centre, they did the dishes together, and then they moved back into the living room.

 

Emma turned the TV on but they paid little attention to it, instead spending the next hour talking, mostly supplying funny stories about their respective careers. Regina described in hilarious detail a council member who had shown up to a meeting in the most hideous sweatpants and neon yellow shirt she’d ever seen and Emma describing a guy she’d been tracking down who literally dripped over his own shoelaces and landed at her feet.

 

As the hour approached 9 pm, Emma’s eyelids once again got droopier and droopier, until everytime she blinked they remained closed for several seconds.

 

“You should go to bed,” Regina eyed her carefully.

 

Emma’s entire body practically begged her to agree but she gnawed her lip and shook her head, “I’m okay.”

 

Regina quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her, “You sure about that?”

 

Emma ducked her head to avoid the scrutinizing gaze, not sure she could lie adequately.

 

“Seriously, Emma. Please don’t let the fact that I’m here change your routine. You had chemo today. You need to rest,” Regina insisted, her voice filled with so much understanding, “Don’t worry about me, I have my book, and my phone. I should probably catch up on some work emails, regardless.”

 

“Okay,” Emma sighed, unable to keep a small hint of annoyance out of her voice. She wasn’t annoyed at Regina, she was annoyed at herself. Well, maybe not at _herself_ exactly but definitely at _her_ cancer. She was enjoying talking to Regina so much, it wasn’t fair that stupid cancer, and stupid chemo, and her stupid pathetic body, were forcing her to need to go to bed earlier than most teenagers did. She sighed again, offering Regina an apologetic smile, wanting Regina to know that she most definitely wasn’t upset with her. “So I was thinking,” she started, “you could take my room and I’ll sleep out here on the couch.”

 

Once again Regina quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her, “Seriously? You think I’m going to take a cancer patient’s bed? How horrible do you think I am?”

 

Emma might have been upset at being referred to as a cancer patient if the words hadn’t been delivered in such a clearly teasing way. She narrowed her eyes at Regina, “Hey, I’m trying to be a good host here.”

 

Regina chuckled, shaking her head, “You’ve been a wonderful host, Emma. But nothing you say is going to convince me to take your bed.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes, “Are you always this difficult?”

 

Regina smirked, “Yes.”

 

xxxxxx

 

The next morning they ate a breakfast of oatmeal and yoghurt, which was really all Emma had to offer. The snow had stopped over night and the roads had been cleared, so shortly after breakfast, Regina prepared to leave.

 

“Thanks again for giving me a place to stay last night,” Regina smiled from where she stood at the door.

 

“It wasn’t a problem,” Emma shrugged, returning the smile, “you’re welcome, anytime.” Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, she found that she sincerely meant that.

 

Emma almost felt sad as she watched Regina disappear down the hallway and she closed the door to apartment, alone once more.

 

xxxxxx

 

A few days later, as she’d told Emma she would be, Regina found herself at Kathryn and Frederick’s Christmas Eve open house. Never having been able to attend in the past, Regina wasn’t quite sure what to expect and she was surprised to find the couple’s home packed with what seemed to be the majority of the town. She talked some with a few of the more tolerable councillors, and with Eugenia who owned Granny’s diner, but after a while she found the party to be a little too suffocating and she disappeared with her glass of red wine into the kitchen, which seemed to be the only room of the house not crowded with people.

 

She leaned against the counter, sipping slowly on her wine and wondering what Emma was doing right now. She was surprised at that thought and even more surprised when it occurred to her that she’d much rather be sitting on Emma’s couch talking right now than be at this crowded party.  

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Kathryn coming into the room. She was carrying an ice bucket and she set it down on the counter. “So here’s where you’re hiding,” Kathryn smirked at her before she turned to the fridge, opening the freezer and pulling out ice trays.

 

“I’m not hiding,” Regina scowled.

 

“ _Sure_ ,” Kathryn rolled her eyes as she dumped ice from the trays into the ice bucket. “So…” she said as she moved over to the sink to refill the ice trays, “are you going to tell me where you were Thursday? Your disappearance is hot gossip around town and I want the scoop.”

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed, her brow crinkling in confusion, “What?”

 

“You didn’t show up to work Thursday. There’s a pool betting on the reason why,” Kathryn’s expression was filled with amusement.

 

“Seriously?” Regina’s frown deepened.

 

Kathryn laughed, “No, silly. Not seriously,” she rolled her eyes, “Not the betting pool part anyway. There was a rather lively discussion at Granny’s about where you might be when Susan came in and said you called informing her that you weren’t going to make it in.” She put the ice cub trays back in the freezer and turned to look back at Regina.

 

Regina rolled her eyes at Kathryn. Why was her secretary gossiping about her exactly?

 

As if reading her mind, Kathryn shrugged, “Hey, it’s a small town, we don’t have much to gossip about. Plus, we all know you went to work with pneumonia last year, so any unexplained absences are all that more curious to everyone. It’s half the reason why the whole town knew about you volunteering the day after your first shift at the cancer centre. As soon as Regina Mills doesn’t turn up at Town Hall, everyone worries that the world might have ended. It’s how I knew you volunteering would be a good PR strategy.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes again, shaking her head at Kathryn. “There was a snowstorm in Boston. I stayed there overnight because it didn’t seem safe to try and drive home.”

 

Kathryn looked extremely curious now, “And where exactly did you stay?”

 

Regina couldn’t stop the sudden flush of her checks - she blamed the wine. “With...a friend,” she said as neutrally as possible.

 

Kathryn’s eyebrows waggled up and down, an amused grin on her face, “A _friend_ , huh?”

 

“Yes,” Regina snapped defensively.

 

Kathryn held up a hand as if to say ‘easy’. “And who exactly is this Boston friend that you’ve told me nothing about?”

 

Regina shrugged one shoulder, “Her name is Emma. I met her at the cancer centre.”

 

“Em-ma,” Kathryn repeated the name in a singsong voice. She waggled her eyebrows up and down again, “Are you _sure_ she’s just a _friend_.”

 

Regina scowled, her jaw tightening as a sudden flurry of something like anger settled in her chest, although she wasn’t really sure why. Her eyes narrowed in Kathryn’s direction, “She has _cancer_ Kathryn. Yes, I’m sure.”

 

“Oh,” Kathryn paled, looking uncertain now.

 

“Yes, _oh_ ,” Regina repeated, still unhappy and feeling suddenly off-kilter.

 

“I...I’m sorry,” Kathryn sighed.

 

Regina sighed too. She hadn’t meant to be so snappish, “You don’t have to be sorry. Just...leave it please.”

 

Kathryn stared at her much too knowingly for a long moment before she nodded, “Okay.” She swallowed thickly and then she grinned at Regina, pushing aside the heaviness that had settled over them, “Now come back out into the living room, we’re about to start the dance party.”

 

Kathryn snagged Regina’s wrist and Regina let herself be tugged back into the crowded living space.

 

xxxxxx

 

The party was still raging pretty strongly shortly after midnight when Regina decided that she should head home.

 

Both Kathryn and Frederick hugged her goodbye, wishing her Merry Christmas, and the she stepped out into the cold evening air. She’d only had a few glasses of wine but she decided that it would still be best to leave her car. She only lived a few blocks away and the walk might help her clear her head, which had been oddly foggy since her conversation with Kathryn in the kitchen.

 

As she walked, she couldn’t help but think about Emma. Emma who had told her she would be spending Christmas curled up on the couch since Sunday’s post chemo were actually the days she felt the worst day. Emma who would be spending Christmas all alone.  

 

Regina pulled out her phone. She was sure Emma was sleeping right now but she decided that it might be nice for her to wake up to a message. Maybe that way she would feel just a little less lonely on a day that Regina was sure was nothing but a reminder to her that she had no family.

 

She typed out the message quickly and only hesitated a second before hitting send.

 

_Emma, just wanted to say thanks again for taking me in during the snowstorm the other day. I had a really nice evening. Also, since it’s after midnight now, just wanted to say Merry Christmas. All things considered, I hope you have a good day and that you aren’t feeling too terribly._

 

She put her phone back in her pocket and continued walking towards her house. She was surprised when her phone beeped a few minutes later. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the message, smiling at the words on the screen.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma was quickly learning to hate Saturday evenings post-chemo. She was no less exhausted than she was the first few days post-chemo but, unlike those first days when she always managed to sleep soundly for ten or more hours, on Saturdays post-chemo her aching bones, and unsettled stomach, and general malaise, made her restless, and all she seemed to do all night was toss and turn. It was for that reason that she heard her phone beep shortly after midnight. She had no clue who would be texting her so late at night and she considered ignoring it. But after tossing from one side to the other for the tenth time that evening, she sighed and reached for her phone.

 

She was surprised to find that the message was from Regina and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

 

She slowly typed out a return message.

 

_Hey Regina. What a nice surprise message. I’m glad you had a good time even with this lam-o cutting the night short and going to bed at 9 o’clock. I had a good time too, for the record. Like I said, you’re definitely welcome any time. Oh and Merry Christmas! See you in less than two weeks. :)_

 

Smiling to herself again, she dropped her phone back onto her nightstand, rolled over onto her side, and finally managed to drift to sleep.


	7. There's No Fault in Our Stars

Emma spent Christmas day exactly how she'd known she'd spend Christmas day when she looked at a calendar and realized it would fall on the Sunday post chemo treatment 2A - curled up on the couch in sweats, covered in three different blankets. 

 

Funnily enough, besides the lack of alcohol and the consumption of significantly less food, it wasn't all that different than how she usually spent Christmas. Actually, she found the fact that this year she could blame her lack of celebration on the fact that she  _ couldn't  _ as opposed to because she didn't have anyone to celebrate with almost soothing in a way. Sure she felt awful but the sting of the holidays was a little duller than usual. 

 

Around eight in the evening, Emma stood from the couch, wrapping one of the three blankets around her shoulders and moving over to the window. She leaned against the windowsill and stared at the world below. Snow still blanketed the ground and under the soft glow of the street lights it seemed peaceful. Staring at the snow covered ground she couldn't help but think of Regina and the snowstorm that had stranded her in Boston. It had been a nice night.  She smiled remembering Regina’s text message, remembering that Regina had thought it was a nice night too. It made Emma's heart flutter strangely. 

 

She stared out the window a moment longer before she shuffled to her bedroom, tired and ready to give up on the day, ready for it to be tomorrow when she would feel at least a little better. 

 

As she entered the room, she eyed her phone, which had been on her nightstand all day. She was still thinking about Regina’s earlier text message and she sat on the edge of her bed, reached for her phone, and reread the exchange.

 

She gnawed on her lip and typed out a new message. 

 

_ Hope you had a good day. I was just thinking...I have an appointment Wednesday afternoon at the cancer centre. Would you maybe want to go to dinner after your volunteer shift ends? I kinda want to make it up to you for only having soup to feed you the other day.  _

 

Emma wasn't really sure what she was doing. Making this kind of invitation wasn't like her at all. She didn't usually invite friendship. She preferred to be alone. Or, at least, that was the carefully crafted lie she told herself. But there was something about Regina. Something intriguing and something that drew Emma in. Something that made her want to go out on a limb and invite Regina to dinner and risk her saying no. 

 

Emma gnawed her lip a moment longer and then set her phone back down on the nightstand, pushing herself up and off the bed and heading into the bathroom.

 

She brushed her teeth as carefully as she could, annoyed that even the mildest of toothpastes she could find, which she’d purposely purchased thinking it would help, was aggravating to her mouth. She stared at herself in the mirror as she scrubbed her teeth lightly, sighing at her increasingly scraggly hair and general poor appearance. Her eyebrows seemed thinner now too, she decided. She supposed hair was hair and it was all in jeopardy. Heck, she hadn't had to shave her armpits in three weeks - the only advantage she'd found in this whole cancer thing so far. 

 

She spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth out before she headed back to her room, where she was greeted by the blinking blue light on her phone that signalled a message.

 

She climbed into bed and grabbed her phone, smiling as she read the message.

 

_ There was absolutely nothing wrong with the soup. Regardless, dinner on Wednesday sounds lovely. _

 

xxxxxx

 

“How do you feel about flow charts?”

 

Emma blinked slowly, staring uncertainly at the red headed doctor sitting across from her, “Umm...they’re okay?”

 

Dr. Zelena West, the radiation oncologist, grinned at Emma, “Weird question, I know. You just never know when a patient is going to be categorically adverse to flow charts.”

 

_ Really? _ Emma tried to keep her disbelieving expression contained but she wasn’t sure she was succeeding. She was fairly certain this doctor was just trying to put her at ease but so far it wasn’t really working. She bit her lip and waited for whatever was going to come next. 

 

“Ahh. A tough nut to crack, I see,” Dr. West smiled slyly, pulling a blank sheet of paper out of Emma’s patient folder and pulling a pen out of her pocket. She settled the folder on her knees, placing the blank piece of paper on top of it, and uncapping the pen, “Well, as long as you are not in the categorically adverse to flow charts group, I’m going to draw you one to help you understand what we’re about to talk about.” 

 

Emma nodded, still saying nothing. She watched as Dr. West drew two branches on the blank sheet of paper and wrote  _ PET positive _ and  _ PET negative  _ as headings for each branch, making sure Emma could see it. 

“Alright,” Dr. West said, “As you know, after your next treatment, you’ll be getting another CT scan and another PET scan. We’ll start by looking at the results from the PET scan. If the PET scan shows signs of active disease, we’ll consider it positive and you’ll be on this branch of the flow chart,” she tapped the place on the paper that said  _ PET positive _ and then added a line below it, jotting down the word  _ Add radiation _ . “If the PET scan is positive, then radiation will be a necessity. Combined modality treatment in that case will offer us the best shot at getting you in remission.”

 

Emma swallowed, nodding her understanding, even as her heart began hammering loudly in her chest. These kinds of conversations always left her feeling quickly overwhelmed, heavy weight pressing on her chest. She gnawed on her lip as Dr. West turned her attention to the  _ PET negative _ branch of the flow chart. 

 

“On the other hand, if the PET scan is negative, then we will have to turn to the results of the CT scan to help us make a decision.” Dr. West added two branches underneath  _ PET negative _ , one said  _ CT scan - nodes less than 2 cm _ , the other said  _ CT scan - nodes greater than 2 cm _ . “Now, regular lymph nodes are usually less than 1 cm but we’re expecting there to be some scar tissue in your lymph nodes, so we’re not necessarily looking for your nodes to shrink down to 1 cm but we are hoping to see them reduced to less than 2 cm. As long as that’s the case, then you won’t need radiation and you’ll just need to finish your last two cycles of chemo.”

 

“Okay,” Emma said slowly, her heart still hammering loudly in her chest.  _ This _ was clearly the branch of the flow chart she wanted to be on. She was scared to hope for that to happen though.   

 

Dr. West jotted that down on the flow chart with a single line connecting it to  _ CT scan - nodes less than 2 cm _ , and then added two more lines under  _ CT scan - nodes greater than 2 cm _ . “If the nodes haven’t shrunk that much though, then we will find ourselves in a bit of a grey area.”

 

“A grey area?” Emma couldn’t help but repeat, her words quiet and just a little horrified. Everything about cancer felt a little horrifying it seemed. There was absolutely nothing reassuring about hearing her treatment plan might end up in some area classified as  _ grey _ .

 

“Yes,” Dr. West nodded seriously, “the issue is that all of the previously published studies were done prior to the use of PET scans. It’s possible, maybe even probable, that a negative PET scan is a good enough indicator that you’ve had a complete response to treatment but it will require a number more years and a number more studies before I can say that with certainty. Because of that, we would want there to be some kind of increase in treatment, to mitigate the chance of relapse.”

 

Emma rubbed the back of her neck, waiting for Dr. West to continue. 

 

Dr. West jotted a few words under each branch underneath the grey area branch of the flow chart,  _ 6 cycles ABVD _ and  _ 4 cycles ABVD + radiation _ . She showed it to Emma and explained, “So either we add the radiation or we increase the number of chemo cycles to 6.”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled as she thought about that, uncertain she really understood, “Why are there two options?” After all, if the PET scan was positive, apparently radiation was the only option. 

 

Dr. West nodded, as if she expected that question. When she spoke, it was in the serious doctor tone, “With young adults such as yourself we have to concern ourselves with the late effects that treatment may have. Radiation does come with a slightly reduced rate of recurrence over just chemo but the tradeoff is increased late effects. In your case, because you have cancer in your mediastinum, the radiation field would include your chest, which does increase the risk of heart disease and breast cancer. So, we really only want to use radiation if we think your risk of relapse is higher than average. That’s why, if the PET scan is positive, we recommend the addition of the radiation. The risk of relapse is high enough in that case that the risk associated with radiation tends to become tolerable. If the PET scan is negative though, we generally leave it up to the patient to decide if they’d rather add more chemo or add radiation.”  

 

Emma’s eyes widened. Wait.  _ What _ ? The treatment for her cancer could give her cancer? And there was a possibility they weren’t just going to tell her what to do? She might have to decide? Emma sighed. Things just kept getting better and better. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Thankfully Regina’s volunteer shift was already over by the time Emma was done with her appointment with Dr. West because just the thought of setting foot in the chemo suite on a non-chemo day made Emma queasy.

 

They met in the lobby and Emma drove them to a nearby restaurant. A little Italian place she’d discovered in her first few months of living in Boston. It wasn’t a fancy place by any means but it was one of her favourites. She was finally far enough out from her last chemo treatment that the thought of eating wasn’t completely repulsive and she actually smiled to herself as she had a quick glance at a menu that she basically knew by heart, quickly deciding what she was going to order. It was the first time she’d had a craving for something specific in weeks, it was a pleasant realization. 

 

“So, how was your appointment today?” Regina asked from across the table, setting her menu down on the table and folding her hands over it.

 

Emma shrugged her shoulders, reaching her hands up to adjust the knit hat on her head - it was a grey one that matched the sweater she was wearing. “It was…” Emma was going to say that it was okay but something stopped her, “interesting?” she settled for, which was slightly closer to the word she actually wanted to use to describe the appointment -  _ horrifying _ . 

 

Regina quirked a curious eyebrow. “How so?” she asked, reaching for the water glass in front of her and taking a sip.        

 

Emma hesitated a moment but then she thought  _ what the heck.  _ She adjusted in her seat so that she could pull a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. It was the flowchart, which Dr. West had given her to keep at the end of the appointment. She unfolded the paper, smoothing it out as she set it on the table between them, “I have to have some scans after my next treatment. The appointment was to talk about what will happen after that. Turns out that it’s so complicated that it required a helpful diagram,” she smiled ruefully at that last part, adding sarcastically, “a cancer diagnosis should come with a complimentary PhD, since you're apparently expected to learn and understand all kinds of crazy stuff.” 

 

Regina’s lips twitched at the joke, but her expression got serious, her lips pursing as she studied the paper, a well manicured finger reaching out and tracing the path from  _ PET negative _ , down and through  _ CT scan - nodes less than 2 cm, _ to finish at  _ 4 cycles ABVD _ . She looked up at Emma, “So this is the one we’re keeping our fingers crossed for?”

 

Emma’s heart did a strange flip at the word  _ we’re _ . It wasn’t the uncomfortable hammering that had occurred during her appointment with the radiation oncologist, it was something more pleasant. “Yes,” she smiled slowly. She hadn’t come here intending to share this information with Regina but there was something about having shared it that made her feel like the weight that seemed to be constantly pressing on her chest was just a little lighter. As if one person besides her sending up a signal to the universe might make a difference in the outcome. She knew it was a ridiculous thought but it didn’t make it any less comforting. 

 

Regina smiled too.

 

Emma reached for the paper, folding it back up and shoving it back into her pocket as the waiter approached to take their orders.    __

 

“You know,” Regina said, after the waiter had gone, “I don’t know how you do it.”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled in confusion, “Do what?”

 

There was something like admiration on Regina’s face as she watched Emma carefully, “Manage to seem so…” she hesitated, as if struggling to find the right word, “calm. Strong.” She swallowed, still eyeing Emma with brown eyes filled with softness, “If I had cancer, I think I would be a basket case.”

 

Emma couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up her neck and into her cheeks at the compliment. Not that she actually agreed with Regina - she felt nothing but weak all of the time - but it was sort of nice to hear that Regina thought so. Emma laughed it off though, shaking her head, “Oh trust me, you could weave a full on basket with the inside of my brain, for sure.”  

 

Regina stared silently a moment but then she shrugged one shoulder and laughed too, “I’ll have to take your word for it.”   

 

xxxxxx

 

The morning of chemo treatment number 2B, Emma's fourth, began the same as the previous one. Emma waiting on the curb for Regina, Regina insisting that it was much too cold for her to wait outside and that Emma should have stayed in the building until she got there, them squabbling over who was going to pay for the parking, Regina winning the who was going to pay for parking argument, and then them pausing at the antiseptic dispenser to clean their hands.

 

This time it was Regina who seemed to hesitate, “So,” she said carefully, “I was thinking I would run down to the cafeteria and grab some coffee. Did you want one? I can bring it up to the lab.”

 

Emma blinked at her confused a moment. She'd expected Regina to do the same thing she'd done two weeks ago and disappear to read a book or something similar until her volunteer shift started. “Umm…” she nodded, smiling, “Yeah sure that would be great.”

 

Regina smiled too, “What do you take in your coffee? Or would you rather something different?”

 

“Coffee is good. And just cream,” Emma replied, “Thanks.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina headed for the stairs that would take her to the basement cafeteria and Emma headed for the lab, where she checked in, got her little ticker tape number marking her place in line, and found a seat with the most empty chairs surrounding it, dropping her shoulder bag onto one of the seats to save it for Regina. She wasn't exactly sure if Regina was planning to sit with her until her volunteer shift started but Emma was sort of hoping that would be the case. 

 

She'd only been sitting a few minutes when she noticed a young man at the lab check in counter, handing over his ID and chatting animatedly with the nurse behind the counter.He had short brown hair and looked to be no older than mid thirties. Emma sort of felt bad when she realized she was staring, the exact thing that drove her crazy when everyone here did it to her, but she still couldn't seem to look away. The man finished talking to the nurse, put his ID back in his wallet, and spun around, his eyes searching the room for a seat. Emma started to look away when his gaze swept in her direction but she wasn't quick enough and their eyes connected. Strangely the man didn't scowl at finding her staring but smiled instead and, even more strangely, started moving towards her.

 

There was something not quite natural about his gate but Emma couldn't quite pick out what it was until he sat himself down in the chair beside her and his pant legs rode up a bit, revealing that his right leg was prosthetic. 

 

“Hey there,” he smiled at her as he adjusted his pant legs back down, “I'm August. But don't worry this isn't the Fault in our Stars...unless your name is Hazel Grace, then I'm getting up and running in the other direction.”

 

“Huh?” Emma's brow crinkled in confusion, having absolutely no clue what this guy was talking about.

 

Clearly sensing her confusion, August clarified, “You know. The Fault in our Stars. The book slash movie.” When Emma just kept staring at him in complete confusion, he added, “The one with the young guy named Augustus with bone cancer and a prosthetic leg? Dates a girl named Hazel Grace with metastasized thyroid cancer? Any of this ringing any bells?”

 

Emma pressed her lips into a line, her eyes widening slightly into a sceptical face as she shook her head. “No, sorry.”

 

“Well that’s a bad start to a conversation,” August shook his head, chuckling lightly, “Please tell me you've at least seen 50/50?”

 

Emma made the same face again shaking her head no.

 

“Deadpool?”

 

Another head shake in the negative.

 

“Oh come,” August groaned jokingly, “You've seriously consumed  _ no _ cancer related entertainment? What kind of awful cancer patient are you?”

 

He was clearly just teasing her but Emma wasn't sure how she felt about it. He was so forward. Talking like they were friends, like they'd known each other for awhile, instead of what they actually were - strangers who'd just met.

 

August must have sensed her unease because he shot her an apologetic lopsided smile and said, “Sorry. Why don't I try that again. Hi,” he gave her a half wave, “My name is August Booth. I had osteosarcoma six years ago when I was 29 and then again four years ago when I was 31. I just wanted to say hi because I remember how isolating it was to be here surrounded by people who are all way older than you and who look at you like you are the elephant in the room.” 

 

Emma relaxed, offering him a tentative smile, “It definitely is strange being the only person…” she paused, realizing that wasn’t quite right, “I guess not  _ only _ ...but close to the only person my age in this place.”

 

“Mmhm,” August nodded in understanding and then he eyed her sort of expectantly.

 

It only occurred to Emma then that she hadn't reciprocated his introduction, “I'm Emma Swan by the way. I have Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.”

 

August gave that same understanding head nod, his lips twitching up into a rueful half-smile, offering sarcastically, “Chemo is a real blast, huh?”

 

“Oh yes,” Emma smirked, speaking just as sarcastically, “the best time I've ever had.” She shook her head, chuckling softly as she looked around the room. She brightened as she spotted Regina walking into the lab waiting room. Sitting up a bit straighter and catching her eye, Emma waved Regina over. 

 

Regina smiled when their eyes met and she moved with purpose over towards Emma, pausing in front of her and holding out one of the two cups in her hand for Emma to take.

 

“Thanks,” Emma smiled, taking the cup from Regina, wrapping her fingers around it and watching as Regina’s eyes slid from her over to August curiously, or maybe more like suspiciously. “Oh,” Emma said, calling Regina’s attention back to her, “This is August, we just met.” She turned her head to look over at August, “August, this is Regina.”

 

“Hi,” August smiled at Regina, tipping his head in a sort of nod, “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Hello,” Regina said, her face unreadable.

 

Emma sipped on her coffee, watching the two of them curiously.

 

“I was just telling Emma that she’s an awful cancer patient,” August said to Regina, smirking quickly over at Emma. 

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed and she seemed almost angry.

 

Emma rushed to explain, “He’s kidding. It was a joke because I haven’t seen a bunch of cancer movies he mentioned.” 

 

Regina relaxed, although she still didn’t seem thrilled. She took a seat in the chair opposite of Emma and August before Emma could lift her shoulder bag from the seat beside her and offer the chair she’d been saving. Regina crossed a leg over one knee and sipped on her coffee watching Emma and August but saying nothing.

 

“So,” August turned his attention back to Emma, “Am I the first cancer patient close to your age that you’ve met?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“Thought so,” August nodded his head seriously.

 

Emma’s nose scrunched up. Not at all sure what that was supposed to mean.

 

August smiled easily, “It’s a pretty safe bet in a place like this. It helps though, you know. Knowing other young adult cancer survivors, people who get it.”

 

Emma’s nose didn’t unscrunch and she couldn’t help but look over at Regina. The other woman was still sipping her coffee. She was clearly listening to the conversation but her face was still unreadable. Emma tipped her head back towards August, smirking at him, “You’re kind of sounding like a bad motivational poster. If this was one of those cancer films you mentioned, would this be the part where you try and talk me into going to a support group?”

 

August’s lips twitched into an amused smile, “Do you want to be talked into going to a support group?”

 

Emma shook her head, “No.” She had no desire to sit around in a group and talk about her feelings. That actually sounded  _ awful _ .

 

August chuckled lightly, “Then, no, that’s not what this is.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I was going to suggest I give you my number though. In case you ever wanted to gripe to someone who gets it.”

 

Emma glanced back at Regina, feeling bad that this conversation was completely excluding her. She waggled her eyebrows jokingly, “He sure likes that line.”

 

Regina smirked slowly, her eyes tipping in August’s direction, “Emma’s right. You sound like a bad motivational poster.  _ Talk to someone who gets it, you’ll feel better _ ,” she mocked with just enough teasing in her voice to make it acceptable instead of rude.

 

August grinned sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder unbothered, “I stand by it. There’s nothing better than being able to say to someone, I haven’t shit in days, and have them nod in understanding instead of look horrified.”

 

As if proving his point, Regina’s eyes widened in horror at the same time as Emma snorted, barely containing a wave of what would certainly be uncontrollable laughter.

 

Emma looked over at August, “I thought it was only me.” It wasn’t exactly true, she knew it was a side effect of the medication and she couldn’t be the only one, but it was still a side effect that she wouldn’t dream of mentioning to anyone.   

 

August grinned wider, laughing, “That’s what everyone thinks.”

 

Emma let herself laugh then too, shaking her head as her eyes drifted over to Regina, whose expression had settled back into unreadable. She shook her head again, her laughter simmering back down. “Okay,” she said, looking over at August.

 

“Okay?” August tilted his head.

 

Emma forked out her phone and handed it over to him, “I’ll take your number. Just in case.”

 

xxxxxxx 

 

Emma was called back into the lab shortly after August handed her back her phone. Emma stood and asked Regina to hold her coffee cup. Regina took it with a nod, watching Emma walk towards the nurse calling her name. She kept her eyes on Emma until she’d completely disappeared from sight and then with a sigh, she turned her attention to the man still sitting across from her. She didn’t understand the flurry of jealous anger that fluttered through her chest as she laid her eyes back on him but it aggravated her. It was unacceptable   _ Stop it _ , she hissed internally to her brain. 

 

“So…” August ran a hand through his hair as he appraised her, “you and Emma?…” he trailed off, leaving it hanging like a question.

 

Regina’s lips pursed as she tried to sort out what he was asking.

 

“It’s nice,” August clarified, although a bit hesitantly, “that Emma has a significant other supportive enough to come with her to chemo days.”

 

Regina’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized the misunderstanding. For a split second she considered not correcting him, but just as quickly as she thought it, she berated herself internally. She shook her head at August, “Emma and I aren’t...together.”

 

“Oh,” it was August’s eyes that widened this time, “Sorry...I shouldn’t have assumed.”

 

Regina said nothing just stared at him.

 

His hand reached up to run through his hair again, “It’s nice, regardless. That you’re here. That she has support. It makes a difference.”

 

Regina’s brow crinkled into a frown at that but this time she didn’t correct him. She wasn’t sure exactly how to explain that she was just someone who volunteered here, that she was just Emma’s ride, because she wasn’t even sure if that was all she was anymore. Having dinner together last week signaled a shift, hadn’t it? That was most definitely friend behaviour, right? At least, Regina  _ felt _ like Emma was her friend. She’d even called Emma as much when Kathryn had asked about her on Christmas Eve. 

 

Thankfully Regina never had to come up with an answer for August because Emma emerged from the lab, tube dangling from her chest down the front of her sweater, her hands rubbing, almost nervously, against the her loose fitting jeans. She paused a second before walking over to stop between August and Regina.

 

“All set?” Regina asked, an eyebrow quirked in Emma’s direction, handing back the coffee cup she’d been holding for Emma.

 

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, taking the cup with one hand, her other hand rubbing against the side of her leg again, “Did you...uh...want to come up with me? Until your shift starts?”

 

That had been Regina’s plan but there was something about Emma’s sudden almost uncertainty, like she couldn't quite believe that Regina would want to come with her, that made her smile softly, her heart fluttering with fondness, “Of course I would.”

 

The response was rewarded with a bright smile. Emma stared a Regina a moment longer, until Regina was on her feet and ready to leave, and then Emma turned to look at August, “Bye August. It was nice to meet you.”

 

“Bye,” August smiled, waving at the both of them as they walked out of the lab together.

 

xxxxxx      

 

Regina sat with Emma in the waiting room in the hematology clinic until she had to leave to go check in for her shift. 

 

Now Emma was sitting in an exam room across from Belle.

 

Belle was holding out a sheet of paper for Emma to take, explaining, “These are your appointment times for your interim scans. CT scan is scheduled for Monday at 11 and PET scan is scheduled for Tuesday at 10. Is that okay?”

 

Emma bit her lip as she took the sheet, nodding her agreement to Belle even as dread settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. The flurry of nerves wasn't exactly unexpected. Of course she would be nervous about tests that would confirm whether or not her treatment was working well enough. But the intensity of the sudden flurry of nerves was overwhelming. 

 

xxxxxx

 

The rest of the day passed as it usually did and before long Regina was dropping Emma off in front of her apartment.

 

Emma was exhausted and, even though a part of her wanted to invite Regina up, she knew that what she really needed right now was sleep. Sleep would hopefully untangle the knot in her stomach that twinged painfully every time she remembered the appointment sheet Belle had given her which was now burning a hole in her shoulder bag.  “Thanks again,” she smiled tiredly.

 

“It’s not a problem. Now go get some rest, you look like you're in danger of falling asleep right here,” Regina smirked.

 

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she shook her head, reaching for the door handle of the car, opening it before looking back at Regina, “See you in two week?”

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed with a smile. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma thought the nerves would get better once she’d actually had the scans but, if anything, they got worse. She was agitated and the more she tried to  _ not _ think about what those scan results would say, the more she couldn’t seem to think about anything else. 

 

She knew that the results wouldn’t be completely awful since her oncologist had already pointed out that things were shrinking, not growing. Yet, that knowledge wasn’t enough to quell the knots in her stomach. She desperately wanted the results to align with the flow chart branch where she would only need to finish her already scheduled chemo. She wanted that  _ so _ badly that it almost hurt. But she hated hated hated how desperately she wanted it. Thing didn’t go her way. She knew better than to hope too hard. Knew better than to want anything  _ too _ badly. So, no matter how hard she tried not to think about it, she just kept coming back to the other options. Just kept wondering what it would be like to be told her PET scan was positive, or that her nodes hadn’t shrunk enough. Just kept wondering if  _ more _ treatment would be enough in those cases. Or if… she always stopped herself before she completely finished that thought. Always stopped herself before she could dwell for more than a second on the 10%. She couldn’t let herself think about what it would be like to be in that 10%, even if her brain kept trying and trying and trying to drag her over there.

 

Wednesday morning, a week after her last chemo, and the day after her PET scan, she stood in front of the mirror and nearly cried. She was so sick of the incessant inner dialogue that refused to give her a moment of peace. So sick of the knots in her stomach. So sick of cancer. So sick of staring in the mirror and seeing some stranger staring back at her. So sick of the mirror being a constant reminder of everything cancer had taken,  _ was _ taking, from her. So sick of feeling weak. 

 

She sighed heavily at her reflection. Her hair, if possible, looked even worse today. She was fairly confident, at this point, she looked like Gollum. She growled out loud, only barely resisting the urge to smash the mirror with her fist. 

 

“ _ Enough _ ,” Emma said to herself, loud enough that the word bounced around the small bathroom. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, the knots in her stomach twisted painfully, but she felt a little calmer. 

 

She moved from the bathroom to the kitchen, tugging open a drawer and finding a pair of scissors before heading back to the bathroom. There was a moment of hesitation as she stared at the scraggly, ever-thinning, hair on her head, but it was with confidence that she lifted the scissors to her head and started chopping away, her remaining hair falling around her, covering her shoulders and the counter, and the floor. 

 

When she was done, she stared at herself in the mirror, and her eyes widened, momentarily horrified, “Oh shit.”

 

Crappy kitchen scissors had not been the correct tool for this job. Where before she might have looked like Gollum, now she sort of looked like someone had tried to take a lawn mower to her head. Scissors weren’t like a razor or clippers and now she was left with strange tufts of hair sticking out every which way dispersed among the smooth bald spots. She considered whether she should try and fix it with her razor but that just seemed dangerous. 

 

“Oh shit,” she repeated, shaking her head at herself. She was such an idiot. And yet, staring at herself in the mirror, at how ridiculous she looked, she felt laughter bubbling up in her chest. The laughter bubbled out, the loud maniacal kind of laughter that reverberated her whole body, and brought tears to her eyes. 

 

It was several minutes before she managed to stop laughing, wiping tears from her eyes, she actually smiled at herself in the mirror. 

 

Sure she looked ridiculous. But she looked ridiculous of her own doing. Maybe it was silly but it sort of felt like, at least for a moment, she’d taken the power away from cancer. It was the strongest she'd felt since her first chemo treatment had left her curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. 

 

xxxxxx

 

She considered texting August, wondering if he’d have any tips for dealing with cancer related but self inflicted hair disasters. She even started typing a message. But then she deleted it, instead scrolling down further in her contacts list and selecting Regina’s name and typing out a quick message.

 

_ I’ve made a big mistake _

 

It was only a few minutes before her phone buzzed a response.  _ What kind of mistake? _

 

Emma, gnawed her lip, considering the best way to respond. After a moment of hesitation, she snapped a picture of herself and sent it to Regina.

 

The response came even quicker this time.  _ I see.  _

 

Emma laughed at the obviously carefully chosen response.  _ That’s really all you’re going to say? _

 

_ Well, is it a mistake you want to fix? _

 

Emma considered it a second and then typed out  _ I’d sort of like to not look like someone took a lawn mower to my head _

 

_ Okay.  _ The one word reply came almost instantaneously, followed a moment later by another message.  _ I think I can help. Can I pick you up after my volunteer shift? _

 

“Huh,” Emma said out loud to herself. That wasn’t the response she’d been expecting at all. She’d mostly just texted Regina because she wanted someone to laugh about this with. Wanted to hang on a little longer to the momentary strength she'd felt as she descended into laughter in the bathroom. She was curious how exactly Regina was going to help her but all she texted back was  _ Sure, sounds like a plan to me. _

 

_ Great. I will be there near 4 o’clock.  _ Regina replied.

 

xxxxxx

 

“So how exactly are we going to fix it?” Emma asked curiously as she climbed into Regina’s car. She adjusted the knit hat on her head, which she’d debated whether or not she needed but had eventually decided to put it on. Maybe she’d consider abandoning it after the situation on top of her head was  _ fixed  _ \- whatever that meant. Although it was still winter, so perhaps not. 

 

Regina smirked at her, “Hello, nice to see you too.”

 

Emma laughed, “Yes, sorry, hi. Did you have a good day?”

 

“I did,” Regina nodded, turning her eyes to the road as she pulled away from the curb, “I would ask how your day was...but I have a feeling I already know the answer...eventful?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma laughed again, looking out the window and trying to figure out where they were going. It was impossible to tell really. She didn't have to wonder long though because within minutes they were pulling up in front of a hair salon. It seemed like a pretty fancy place, like one of those places that doubled as a spa. She twisted her head back over to look over at Regina, “This is where we're going?

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded, putting the car in park. She pursed her lips a moment, studying Emma, and suddenly looking surprisingly uncertain, “I made you an appointment...is that okay?”

 

Wanting nothing more than to wipe the uncertainty from Regina’s face, Emma rushed to nod her head, “Yes, of course…” She smiled, slow and bright, her heart beating rapidly in her chest but not in the uncomfortable loud hammering way it so often did these days -  this was something else entirely. No one had ever done anything like this for her. No one had ever listened to her problems and not only come up with a solution but actually gone out of their to help implement that solution. Regina could have easily just texted her and said she should see a hairdresser to fix the mess she’d made of her head but instead she'd called and made an appointment for Emma, and she'd picked Emma up and brought her here. Emma reminded herself that Regina was most likely just acting this way because she felt bad for her but, even with that assumption, it was baffling, still, how anyone could be so nice to her.

 

Watching Emma, Regina’s lips tugged into a soft smile and for a moment they both just stared at each other until Regina cleared her throat, “We should...go inside.”

 

Emma startled a bit and she bobbed her head up and down rapidly, “Yes, of course.”

 

xxxxxx 

 

Emma had been correct, this was definitely a fancy place. She knew so because there was a water fountain in the reception area. She also knew so because there was a receptionist. 

 

Regina hesitated when the hairdresser - a woman with long blonde hair pulled back into an intricate braid who introduced herself as Elsa - started to lead Emma away from the reception area. Emma looked over her shoulder and motioned with a wave for her to follow. Regina nodded and hurried to catch up.

 

Emma settled into the salon chair while Elsa grabbed a spare chair for Regina. Emma stared at herself in the mirror in front of the salon chair, gnawing on her lip and catching Regina’s eye through the reflective surface. She reached up and yanked the knit hat off of her head, dropping it into her lap. She rubbed the top of her head with one hand, sort of her nervously. Regina, of course, had already seen the mess but she bounced her knee and waited for Elsa’s reaction. 

 

Elsa didn't even blink though and it occurred to Emma that Regina had probably warned of the situation when she made the appointment. Elsa smiled confidently, “We’ll get this taken care of in no time. We'll just use the clippers and your head will be nice and smooth, you'll see.”

 

Emma nodded, relaxing, “It can't be worse than the current lawn mower accident vibe going on, right?” It was Regina, not Elsa, that she looked at as she said it. 

 

“Right,” Regina smiled reassuringly. 

 

Elsa chuckled at the joke and then reached for the clippers, turning them on, loud buzzing sounding near Emma's right ear, where Elsa began shaving the remaining tufts of hair off of Emma's head.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina watched Emma carefully while Elsa removed her remaining hair. She was looking for signs of distress but there didn't seem to be any. Emma seemed perfectly relaxed.

 

It wasn't long before the clippers were turned off and set aside and Elsa was holding up a hand held mirror so that Emma could see the back of her head. 

 

Emma stared at her reflection for a long moment before she asked, “What do you think?”

 

“You have a really nice shaped head,” Elsa offered enthusiastically in immediate response, “you look great.”

 

Emma smiled briefly at the hairdresser’s words but she wasn't looking at Elsa, she was looking at Regina, wide eyes watching and waiting for an answer. 

 

“You look…” Regina swallowed, hesitating a second, as she tried to come up with a replacement for the first word that popped into her head. There wasn't any other word to use but that first one that had come to mind though, so she finished, “beautiful.” It wasn't a lie, it wasn't even a half truth meant to be kind, it was the complete truth. Emma’s colour was good today, pale but completely without the grey tinge it seemed to take on in the cancer centre and with enough flush in her cheeks that she didn't appear excessively unwell. Also helping was the fact that Emma still had eyelashes and eyebrows. Based on other patients Regina had seen at the cancer centre, she guessed that that might not remain the case forever but, for now, eyelashes and eyebrows kept Emma from seeming  _ too  _ much like a cancer patient. After all, with eyebrows and eyelashes, baldness could be a personal choice - not that anyone was likely to assume that but Regina still thought it made a difference. The lack of hair made Emma's eyes stand out even more than usual, the wide green orbs so bright and striking against pale skin that Regina was having a hard time looking away. 

 

Emma blushed at the compliment, ducking her head in embarrassment. When she looked back up it was with an almost shy grin, “You think so?”

 

“I do,” Regina nodded and then tilted her head, watching Emma carefully, “What do  _ you _ think?”

 

Emma’s head tilted too, before she turned it to look at herself in the mirror again, considering it a moment. “I feel…” she started, her gaze shifting from the mirror back to Regina, her eyes seeming to be shining even brighter now, as she finished, “...strong.”

 

_ Strong _ was a curious word choice and yet it also wasn't. Emma  _ looked  _ strong, Regina thought.

 

Regina smiled at her and Emma beamed back.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma didn't put her knit hat back on and, as they stepped outside, Regina had to resist the urge to chastise her for not covering her head in the cold. The only thing really stopping her was remembering the way Emma had beamed inside the salon, declaring that her newfound baldness made her feel strong. 

 

They were almost at the car when Emma stopped, shuffling her feet, “Hey...umm…”

 

Regina stopped too, eyeing Emma carefully.

 

Emma ran a hand over her now completely bald head before she let her arm drop back to her side. She looked suddenly vulnerable and when she spoke it was clear she was struggling to find the words she wanted to say, “I just...I wanted you to know...this...it meant a lot to me.” Emma swallowed, her eyes filled with an emotion that Regina couldn't quite name, longing or admiration or maybe neither of those. “So…” Emma started again, a hand reaching up to run over her bald head again, “just...thanks.”

 

Regina’s heart fluttered, fondness, and something more than fondness that she quickly tamped down, flooding through her. “It wasn't a big deal.”

 

Emma stared a minute and then she shook her head, offering quietly, “Don't say that. It was...a big deal...to me.”

 

Regina nodded her head slowly, brown eyes still fixed with green, “Okay.” She had the sudden overwhelming urge to hug Emma. Instead, she reached forward, wrapping her fingers loosely around Emma's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “You're welcome.” 

 

Emma glanced down at their joined a hands a moment before she looked back up at Regina, beaming at her, “That's a better response.”

  
Regina smiled back, slow and soft, dropping Emma's hand and reaching for her keys.


	8. Insurance Plans

On the day of her scheduled chemo treatment number 3A, Emma sat in an exam room in the hematology clinic bouncing her leg up and down nervously, her stomach twisting in tighter and tighter knots. Today was the day. Belle had already been in to check on her, so anytime now Dr. Eldridge would step through the door to deliver the verdict. Anytime now she would find out the results of her scans. Frankly, she was terrified.

 

She was so trapped in her own thoughts, she nearly jumped when the door finally did swing open. She swallowed thickly as her oncologist entered the room, her chart tucked under his arm.

 

As he often did, he held out his hand to shake hers, “How are you today?”

 

“Okay,” the word almost got stuck in Emma's throat, her heart hammering even more rapidly now, her stomach doing uncomfortable flips.

 

Dr. Eldridge must have sensed her nerves, or maybe he just expected them, because he said, “I'm sure you're anxious to hear the results from your interim scans, so I won't delay that any longer.” He pulled the stool over and sat across from her, “The PET scan showed no signs of active disease.”

 

Emma's heart was hammering so loudly in her ears that she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. Did he say that there wasn't any signs of active disease? She couldn't have gotten lucky like that could she have? Despite all her desperate hoping, a large part of her had just assumed that she would wind up on the worst branch of the flow chart, the one with the worst chance of attaining remission and of staying in it. It was strange to realize that for once her luck wasn't  _ as  _ awful as it could be. 

 

“The CT scan was generally good as well,” Dr. Eldridge continued, “All of your previously enlarged lymph nodes have shrunk...but…”

 

And there it was the  _ but _ . Emma knew better than to have expected her luck to be perfect.

 

“...the mass in your chest is still 2.5 cm. So we can't say you've had a complete response to treatment but we can certainly say that you've had a good response.”

 

Emma’s heart sank. She balled her hands into fists in her lap to keep them from shaking. She wanted to be happy about the no evidence of active disease PET scan. That was good news, great news even, but even though she thought that that was what she ought to be focusing on, all she could really think about was what these CT scan results meant. “So…” she swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat, “we need to add more treatment?”

 

She had all of one second to hope that he would disagree with the radiation oncologist before he was nodding his confirmation.

 

“Yes,” he nodded seriously, “I know you spoke with Dr. West a few weeks ago about the options in this case. Have you thought much about whether you would prefer to increase to 6 cycles of chemo or add radiation?”

 

Emma trembled. Feeling suddenly unconfident in her ability to speak, she just shook her head no. Not only hadn't she made a decision but she also had no clue  _ how _ she was going to make one. She still couldn’t really believe that they expected her and her lack of medical degree to make such an important decision. 

 

Dr. Eldridge nodded his understanding. “We don't need to decide right this second,” he said, “So, how about I go ahead and set you up another appointment with Dr. West and you can discuss the options again with her?”

 

Emma swallowed thickly, nodding her head. 

 

xxxxxx

 

From her post behind the hat table, Regina watched Emma enter the chemo suite. She wouldn't admit this to anyone - she could barely admit it to herself - but she was anxious to find out what Emma's scans results had been.

 

Emma glanced over at Regina, giving a half wave, but her eyes turned away quickly. Her face seemed paler than usual, her eyes blank, and Regina couldn't help but think that it didn't seem like a good sign. 

 

Regina looked over at Barbara, who seemed to be unabashedly watching her watch Emma. “I need to take a break. I'll be back in twenty minutes.” This was her mayor voice - she wasn't asking permission she was telling.

 

Barbara just nodded knowingly, “Of course, take your time.”

 

Regina waited until Emma was done at the registration counter and then approached. “Hello,” she said carefully. 

 

“Hey,” Emma replied, her face still blank.

 

“Let's go have lunch,” Regina said. She used a tone that was much gentler than her mayor voice but her words were still much closer to a command than a suggestion.

 

If Emma was surprised by the tone she didn't show it, just nodded her agreement.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina waited until they were alone in the elevator, descending to the basement, to say anything. All she wanted - in a desperate way that frustrated her because she hated feeling desperate about  _ anything _ \- was to know what the results had been but, instead, what she said was, “You don't have to tell me what your oncologist said if you don't want to but I am here if you want to talk about it.”

 

Emma looked over at her, the blank expression flickering away for a moment to reveal vulnerability. She gnawed her lip and slipped her blank mask back on before she said, “It was good news.”

 

“It was?” Regina asked, unable to contain the surprise in her voice. Emma’s demeanor didn’t exactly scream ‘good news’. 

 

Green eyes flickered vulnerability again and Emma opened her mouth to speak but the elevator door dinged open and her mouth snapped shut, the same guarded expression reclaiming her features.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina didn't try again until they were seated in a table in the furthest corner of the cafeteria with their lunches in front of them - salad for Regina and soup for Emma, which Regina had paid for before Emma had even approached the cash register.

 

She watched Emma stir her spoon in her soup, around and around and around, and asked carefully, “So it was good news?”

 

Emma looked up from where she'd been staring intently at her soup. “Yes,” she swallowed, bobbing her head up and down rapidly as if that was necessary to make her answer clear. “The PET scan showed no signs of active disease...and that's good news...really good news. I have to be happy about it. I  _ am  _ happy about it. Of course...that's the part to focus on. The part I  _ am _ focusing on. No complaints...so what if the CT scan showed that my nodes are still bigger than 2 cm? I just need a little more treatment. Just a bit extra. It's just like...an insurance plan. Insurance to make sure I don’t relapse later. No big deal. I'm happy about the PET scan, obviously. That's what matters…”

 

Regina’s eyebrows arched, creeping slowly towards her hairline as Emma rambled and rambled and rambled on and on, barely pausing to breath. It was clear that Emma was trying hard to be convincing - although the person she was trying to convince seemed to be more herself than Regina. Finally Regina couldn't take the increasingly desperate tinge of Emma's voice any longer and she reached forward, placing a hand gently on Emma's forearm. “ _ Hey _ ,” she said softly.

 

Emma startled, as if she'd forgotten Regina was there. She swallowed thickly, wide green eyes focusing on Regina’s brown ones. 

 

“You're allowed to be upset about this, you know,” Regina spoke gently but with a firmness to her words that would leave little doubt that she believed exactly what she was saying, “Finding out you will need more treatment  _ is  _ upsetting.”

 

“But…” Emma protested and Regina could feel trembling under the hand that was still resting on Emma's forearm. “But it could be worse,” Emma finished quietly.

 

“Yes,” Regina agreed, squeezing Emma's forearm gently, as she added, “It could almost always be worse but that doesn't mean you have to be happy about things that aren't great.”

 

Emma trembled harder, her eyes hopeful and vulnerable and sad all at once. “I…” she started but couldn't seem to figure out what to say.

 

“No one would expect you to be thrilled about this news, Emma,” Regina said firmly, rubbing Emma's arm now.

 

Emma gnawed her lip, watching Regina with careful eyes. After a full minute of silence, she exhaled loudly, as if the action might be able to expel the weight from her chest, admitting so quietly that Regina had to strain to hear her, “I wanted so badly for four months of chemo to be enough.”

 

Regina was still rubbing Emma's arm but at her words she stilled the motion, choosing instead to squeeze her forearm gently again. Her heart ached for Emma. She could only begin to imagine how she felt right now. “I'm sorry,” she said sincerely, “I wanted that for you too.”

 

Emma sighed again but this time it was an almost dismissive noise and, sure enough, when she spoke again the vulnerability was gone from her voice, replaced with her typical unaffected tone, although the strain required to use it was evident, “We should really eat and get back upstairs before they send out a search party after us.”

 

Regina nodded, allowing the dismissal of the topic without protest - who was she to force Emma to talk about something she clearly no longer wanted to talk about? She squeezed Emma's forearm gently one last time before she withdrew her hand, picking up her fork, and stabbing at a piece of lettuce in her salad, wishing there was something more she could do. 

 

xxxxxx

 

The following Tuesday Emma was back at the cancer centre, sitting across from Dr. West. She was still feeling oddly sluggish from the previous week's chemo treatment, the side effects seeming to linger longer than usual, and her leg bounced up and down in a steady pattern as she waited for the radiation oncologist to speak.

 

“I like the look,” Dr. West motioned to the top of her own head, presumably to signal that the look she was referring to was Emma’s bald head without a wig or hat covering it.

 

“Thanks?” It sounded more like a question than Emma really intended, mostly because the doctor’s words had surprised her.

 

Dr. West shrugged one shoulder and then pulled loose sheets of paper out of Emma’s chart, “Here, I printed something for you.”

 

Emma reached for the loose sheets of paper, staring at the top page uncertainly. It was easy to guess that it was a still image from her scan but as for what exactly she was looking at, she had no clue. It looked like something a kindergartner might have drawn, mostly a bunch of strange black and white blobs.

 

Sensing her confusion, Dr. West reached across the space between them and pointed in succession at places on the paper. “These are your lungs, and this is your heart, and this,” she tapped extra hard on a blob about half the size of her heart located just above it, “this is the mass in your chest. Or at least that  _ was _ the mass in your chest two months ago.”

 

Emma stared at the paper. It was so strange to see it this way. It seemed bigger than she'd imagined it. Right there between her lungs taking up space it shouldn't. 

 

“Now flip the page,” Dr. West said and when Emma did as instructed, the doctor reached forward and tapped on a place on this sheet, “And  _ this  _ is the mass in your chest  _ now _ .”

 

It was significantly smaller, as if something had eaten away at it from two sides. Where it had been nearly round before, now it sort of looked like a mostly eaten apple, just the core left. She stared at this picture a long moment and then looked curiously up at the doctor, not sure she understood why Dr. West had given her these sheets.

 

As if reading her mind, the doctor said, “I wanted you to see that your treatment is working. Very obviously so.”

 

_ Oh _ . Emma said nothing. 

 

“I know it can be disheartening to be told you need more treatment than you'd originally planned on,” Dr. West elaborated. 

 

Emma shrugged her shoulders, still saying nothing, not willing to admit to this doctor whom she'd only met once before that her scan results were upsetting to her.

 

Dr. West waited a beat but when Emma didn't speak, she just shrugged a shoulder of her own, “Anyhow...have you thought much about making a decision regarding radiation?”

 

“I…” Emma sighed, “not really.” She'd tried to think about it but every time she did she sort of felt like the weight on her chest might finally crush her. She didn't understand why they wouldn't just tell her what to do. She wasn't a doctor. She hadn't even gone to college. Heck, she hadn't even really finished high school. Running away from her foster homes hadn't been conducive to attending school  - though she'd gotten her GED in her early twenties to make up for it. 

 

Dr. West tilted her head, “Is there a reason why you would consider radiation over additional chemo?”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled. It was a strange way to phrase the question. Was Dr. West trying to tell her that she didn't think radiation was a good choice? Emma sighed again, “I don't know...I just...two more months of chemo seems so long.”

 

“Yes,” Dr. West nodded, “Often with older people, whom we don't worry about late effects for, we recommend that they do radiation simply because their bodies cannot handle two additional months of chemo. You're young though and, by virtue of that, you started off in a much healthier place than most of the patients we see.”

 

“So...radiation is easier?” Emma gnawed her lip.

 

Dr. West’s lips pursed a moment before she answered, “Not necessarily. It comes with its own side effects, which vary in severity from person to person. Yes, people tend to tolerate it better than chemo but that does not mean it is easy. And don't forget, in your case, what we’re really talking about is the risk of late effects. Not the short term effects.”

 

Emma sighed. Of course. She hadn't forgotten about the late effects. It was hard to forget about heart disease or breast cancer. The truth was, if she hadn't known what decision she had to make before she came into this room, she certainly knew now. It just didn't make it any easier. She kept getting hung up on the part where she would be sick for two extra months. It felt like an eternity. And there was the added stress of not being sure her savings balance would sustain her that long.  She would most likely need a loan. The thought made her stomach twist painfully even as she opened her mouth to say, “I guess I'll go with the extra chemo.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Back in her car, Emma rested her head against her steering wheel. Just like that she'd gone from half way done chemo to only a third done. She now had four months of chemo in front of her. It was like being all the way back on day one of treatment but with the added bonus of already being worn down.

 

She wanted to scream. Instead, she lifted her head from the steering wheel and fished out her phone. Scrolling through her contacts and dialing a number. 

 

It rang three times before a gruff voice said hello on the other end.

 

“Hey Tony,” Emma said, “Got a mark for me?”

 

The amount of work she’d done in the last three weeks had diminished significantly from the amount she’d done in the earlier weeks of her treatment, having fewer and fewer days where she truly felt well enough to attempt it. Actually, the way she was currently feeling, worse than she usually felt the Tuesday following chemo, would usually keep her from trying to work at all but if she was expected to support herself through two extra months of chemo, she couldn’t just go home and lie on the couch. She needed to make some more money.  _ Now. _

 

xxxxxx

 

She was an idiot - that was what Emma thought as she sat with her head resting against the steering wheel for the second time that day. She should have just gone home to lie on the couch. Instead, she'd tracked a bail jumper to the middle of freaking nowhere and her car had broken down on her way there. Now she was somewhere near the New Hampshire and Maine border on some crappy deserted country road, she felt awful, it was cold, it would be dark soon, and she was way to exhausted to deal with this.

 

She didn't move her head from the steering wheel for a really long time. It was nice for a while to pretend that this problem might solve itself but eventually with a deep sigh she straightened and reached for her phone. She shivered, her entire body shaking, as she tried to sort out who to call. She could try to find a tow company but she barely knew where she was. She gnawed on her lip, resisted the urge to just go back to resting her head on the steering wheel, and then flipped through her measly few contacts, picking the only number that she thought really made any sense for her to call. 

 

The phone was answered after only one ring.

 

“Hey,” Emma said hesitantly, “I...uh...I sort of need some help…”

 

xxxxxx

 

Thank goodness for cell phones and GPS units. That was what Regina thought as she flew down the road at a speed that she knew was much faster than she should be driving.

 

She'd already called Billy from Storybrooke’s one and only mechanic shop, who’d promised to head out immediately, but she didn't trust that when he said  _ immediately _ he actually meant right that very second. She didn't want Emma out there alone in the cold for a second longer than necessary, especially not when the sun was starting to set. She was much too frantic to dwell on what such an intense reaction probably indicated about her feelings for Emma. Although, if she  _ were _ to dwell on it, she was sure she could convince herself that her reaction was only that of a concerned friend, definitely nothing more. 

 

Her GPS barked at her to turn right. She made the quick turn and stared at the GPS unit a minute to sort out where she needed to go next to get to the coordinates Emma had given her. Straight, it seemed. She was now apparently on the road that Emma had broken down on.

 

It took five more minutes of slightly reckless driving before she saw the yellow bug up ahead. Her heart rate increased, a fresh wave of adrenaline shooting through her, as she pulled over onto the shoulder and jumped out of the car, moving as quickly as her heels would allow her over to Emma's vehicle.

 

Emma was slumped against the steering wheel. As Regina reached up to rap against the window, her mind flashed back to this almost identical scene in the cancer centre parking garage nearly two months previous. She’d been convinced she’d have to call for help that day and she felt the same surge of worry now, compounded tenfold because this time she knew who was on the other side of this window. Knew that it was someone she cared about. Her heart felt like it was trapped in her throat. 

 

Emma’s response time wasn’t great but she straightened slowly when Regina tapped on the window and Regina let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. She didn’t wait for Emma to move any further, she just yanked the car door open. “Emma,” she rushed out, unable to keep the frantic edge out of her voice and, frankly, not really caring all that much, “are you okay?” Her eyes scanned Emma up and down, although she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for.

 

Emma shivered as tired green eyes looked up to meet Regina’s. “I’m fine,” she insisted even if she sounded anything but. 

 

“You must be freezing,” Regina sighed, still searching for some kind of sign that would help her decide if Emma needed some kind of immediate medical intervention. Emma was flushed and her eyes seemed glazed and not completely focused but there wasn’t anything overtly requiring an ambulance.  

 

Emma shrugged, repeating just as unconvincingly, “I’m fine.” Another wave of shivering seemed to overcome her and her teeth chattered a moment before she added with a rueful smile, “the car, not so fine.”

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed, her lips pursing together. Why must Emma always joke in these serious situations when Regina was trying to decide if she needed help or not? After a beat, she shook her head at Emma and with a soft sigh suggested, “Why don’t you come sit in my car until the tow truck gets here? It will be warmer.” She wished she’d thought to bring a blanket. Although she’d come here straight from the office, so she wasn’t sure where she would have gotten a blanket from.  

 

Emma looked like she might protest for a half of a second but then she nodded her agreement.

Regina helped Emma out of the yellow bug and lead her back to the Mercedes, turning the vehicle back on and cranking up the heat as Emma settled into the passenger seat. Emma was shivering again and, almost subconsciously, Regina reached over to touch Emma’s cheek, wanting to check her temperature. She was surprised to find that instead of the cool skin she expected, what she felt instead was heat radiating off of Emma’s skin. Her forehead scrunched in worry, “Do you have a fever?”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled to match Regina’s, “No?”

 

Regina reached over again, this time placing the back of her hand on Emma’s forehead and leaving it there until Emma squirmed away from her. Emma was definitely warmer than she ought to be. “I think you do,” Regina disagreed with Emma’s assessment of her own health, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

 

“No!” Emma’s protest came sharp and loud, followed by more of a whine of, “I’m fine.”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow at her, “You have cancer. There is nothing  _ fine _ about a fever.” Volunteering at the cancer centre, coupled with some of her own research, had taught Regina plenty about cancer care. She knew that a fever could be a big problem for someone on chemo. 

 

Emma scowled, grumbling, “I don’t have a fever.”

 

Was that seriously the argument she was going with? Regina just maintained the quirked eyebrow, disbelieving, “ _ Emma. _ ” 

 

Emma’s scowl deepened, making her look almost like a petulant child now, as she tried a different tactic, “We can’t leave my car.”

 

“Yes we can,” Regina disagreed, “The tow truck is on its way. Billy is perfectly capable of bringing it back to Storybrooke on his own.”

 

Emma’s scowl softened a bit at that, replaced with a hint of curiosity, “We’re going to Storybrooke?”

 

“Of course. Where else would would we go?”

 

Emma shrugged, looking away from Regina and out the window. After a minute of silence she mumbled, “I don’t want to go to the hospital.” 

 

“Emma,” Regina sighed, waffling between feeling bad for Emma and feeling annoyed at how stubborn she was being, “you have a fever. You need to see a doctor.”

 

“I don’t want to,” Emma mumbled, sounding almost childish again. She crossed her arms over herself as another wave of shivering seemed to overcome her.

 

Regina didn’t really feel like arguing right now, not when she could already be driving towards Storybrooke and Storybrooke General Hospital. “We’ll discuss it once we’re in town,” she offered  a compromise  - not that she had actual intentions of taking Emma anywhere but the hospital, but Emma didn’t need to know that. 

 

“Fine,” Emma grumbled, her body hunching in on itself even further as she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma must have fallen asleep, she decided, because one minute her eyes were closed, her cheek resting against the cool glass of the car window, and the next minute someone was tapping her shoulder and she was jerking upright.

 

“Sorry,” Regina apologized softly. 

 

Emma stretched her arms, her brain taking a minute to catch up and recall the sequence of events that had led her to be waking up in Regina’s car. “Where are we?” she asked warily as she looked out the window of the car, the building in front of her looked suspiciously like a hospital.

 

Regina hesitated before confirming Emma’s suspicions, “This is Storybrooke General Hospital.”

 

Emma’s eyes narrowed, grumbling, “I thought I said I didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

 

“ _ Emma _ ,” Regina sighed, clearly exasperated.  

 

Emma sighed too. She was just grumpy and having a bad day. She knew she was being stubborn and maybe just a little ridiculous. She supposed Regina had come all the way to the middle of nowhere to collect her and her broken down car, so if Regina wanted her to see a doctor, she could go see a doctor. It wasn’t as if that was anything new for her anyway. Doctors were the freaking story of her life lately.  Besides, fever really was something that was supposed to merit a trip to a doctor - they'd hammered that into her head at Chemo 101 all those weeks ago. “ _ Fine _ ,” she begrudgingly conceded with another sigh.

 

Regina said nothing but she looked relieved. 

 

Emma pushed the car door open and climbed out. Black spots immediately dotted her vision and she swayed as she reached out towards the car to try and stabilize herself. “Shit.” She wasn't sure if she said it out loud or just in her head but there was suddenly a hand on her elbow, supporting her. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, begging the sudden wave of dizziness to fade. After a minute of the deep breathing she slowly blinked her eyes back open, relieved to find that the black spots didn't reappear. 

 

Regina was eyeing her with wide eyes. She didn't have to say a word for it to be clear that she was worried. 

 

“I'm fine,”  Emma insisted.

 

Regina just quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her, leaving her hand on Emma's elbow as she led her into the building. 

 

As they stepped through the wide double doors of the emergency room, they were greeted by a waft of warm air, bright lights, and the strong scent of generic antiseptic. All hospitals smelt the same. Emma was convinced that they must all get their cleaning supplies from the same place. 

 

Emma didn’t even realize that she’d stopped moving until Regina squeezed her elbow and urged her past the busy but not full waiting room and towards the triage desk.

 

Perhaps it was Emma’s lack of hair or maybe the fact that she was with the mayor of this small town but the nurse at the triage station startled at the sight of her, looking sort of shocked. It wasn't until Regina glared at the nurse that she waved her hand, beckoning them forward and motioning towards a chair. “Come here, come here, sit down,” the nurse rushed out. 

 

Regina guided Emma into the chair and then finally released her elbow. She seemed to hesitate, hovering uncertainly near Emma, as if not sure what to do now.

 

“Stay,” Emma mouthed to her and Regina immediately nodded, settling into a more relaxed stance next to the chair Emma was sitting in.

 

The nurse took Emma's blood pressure, which was too low, and her temperature, which was too high, while she asked questions. 

 

Emma rattled off a list of medication a mile long without batting an eye but hesitated when asked how she was feeling. “I'm fine,” was the response she decided on. 

 

“ _ Emma _ ,” Regina whispered low and Emma didn't have to look at her to know she was probably rolling her eyes.

 

“I'm just tired,” Emma amended with a sigh. As if intending to betray her, her body chose that moment to send a fresh wave of shivering through her. “And I've got the chills,” she tacked on, “That's all.”

 

Regina made a tsking sound from beside her, “Tell her about what happened in the parking lot.”

 

Emma glanced over her shoulder at Regina, narrowing her eyes at her a moment before looking back at the nurse, “I just stood up too quickly. Got a little dizzy. No big deal.”

 

The nurse made no comment on Emma's insistence that it was no big deal, she just jotted something down. “Alright,” she said standing, “come with me and we’ll get you settled in a bed and I'll talk to the doctor.”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled. They weren't sending her to the waiting room? They were going to give her a bed and see her right away? But she wasn't even  _ really _ sick. Was this because she had cancer? Or because she was with Regina? She wondered if maybe it was a combination of both.

 

xxxxxx 

 

Emma had only been settled in the hospital bed in the little cubby hole separated from the rest of the ER by nothing but curtains a few minutes when a doctor appeared. 

 

He was tall with hideously bleached blonde hair and the way he leered at Regina, who had settled  herself into a chair next to the hospital bed, one leg crossed over the other knee, made Emma want to punch him in the face.

 

“I'm Dr. Whale,” he introduced himself with a smile she was sure he thought was charming but that only made her dislike him more. 

 

Emma didn't smile back, if anything, she glared.

 

Clearly taken aback by her reaction, Dr. Whale hesitated a moment. “So you've got a fever today?”

 

“Yes,” Emma nodded. 

 

“Okay,” he nodded too, still slightly off kilter, “Any other symptoms besides the fever?”

 

“No,” Emma said quickly but when Regina cleared her throat she amended, “Just a little bit of dizziness.” 

 

He nodded again, motioning for her to sit up so that he could do a physical exam. He listened to her chest, checked her throat and ears, and then had her lay back down so he could palpate her abdomen. Looking satisfied, he rubbed the back of his neck as he studied her, “I don’t see anything obvious. The dizziness might be due to dehydration. Have you been drinking lots?”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled as she considered the question. She _ hated _ liquid the first few days following treatment, the taste and feel of it in her sore mouth absolutely awful. Her mouth was better today though, so that wasn’t the issue. Although, she’d left the cancer centre and gone straight to work - she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in probably six hours. The worst part about it was that she hadn’t even realized it until right this second. She shrugged sort of sheepishly, “Not really.”    

 

“You really need to be drinking plenty. Especially with all the medication you’re on. It’s important to flush it out of your system,” Dr. Whale admonished, eyeing her seriously a long moment. 

 

“I know,” Emma grumbled, ducking her head so that she didn’t have to see the look on the doctor’s face a moment longer.

 

Dr. Whale cleared his throat, waiting for Emma to look back up at him before explaining, “I’m going to order some blood work to check your counts and I'm also going to give your oncologist a call. We can take it from there.”

 

“Alright,” Emma agreed with a soft sigh.  

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma had the hospital bed’s thin blanket pulled up to her chin when a nurse arrived a few minutes after the doctor had disappeared, dragging a cart and an IV pole into the small cubby with her. 

 

This was a different nurse than the one at the triage desk and she nodded politely at Regina, “Madam Mayor,” before she turned her eyes to Emma and introduced herself with a smile, “Hi there, I'm Nurse Bell. I'm going to draw some blood. Dr. Whale has also decided that he'd like to start an IV and get some fluids into you, so we’ll do that too.”

 

Emma resisted the urge to sigh, pulling herself up in the hospital bed as she watched Nurse Bell pull tubes and a needle from the cart. “I have a port,” she interrupted the woman’s work, her hand hovering over the access point in her chest, “Can we use that?”

 

Nurse Bell’s brow crinkled, looking apologetic, “I'm sorry, we can't.”

 

“Why not?” It was Regina who asked the abrupt question, sitting up even straighter in her chair as both the nurse and Emma looked over at her.

 

Nurse Bell swallowed, “We don't stock port access kits.”

 

“Why not?” Regina repeated, her expression fiercely serious, “Do you not have enough funding to properly stock this establishment?”

 

Nurse Bell swallowed again, “It's not that. It's just that we've never once had a patient come in here with a port before.”

 

Regina seemed to not know what to say to that, her jaw tightening and her lips pursing, “Very well.”

 

“I really am sorry,” the nurse apologized to Emma as she brought everything over to the bed. 

 

“It's fine,” Emma said, looking away as the nurse rolled up her sleeve and tied a tourniquet around her upper arm.

 

xxxxxx

 

By the time Dr. Whale returned, the saline drip was almost gone and Emma was covered in three extra blankets that Regina had returned with after disappearing under the pretense of calling Billy to check on Emma's car. 

 

“Your white blood count looks okay, it isn’t too low,” he explained, “I spoke with your oncologist and he recommended that I give you a prescription for an antibiotic just to be on the safe side,” he held out the sheet of paper that was presumably the prescription for her to take, adding, “you can also take some Tylenol to help with the fever side effects. If it doesn't get better or if it gets worse you should make sure to be seen again.”

 

Emma nodded, clutching the prescription tightly in her hand. 

 

“Alright,” Dr. Whale rocked on the balls of his feet, “If you have no questions, I'll leave you be. Someone will come unhook your IV and you're free to go.”

 

“No questions,” Emma confirmed, waiting for the doctor to leave before she turned her head to look at Regina, “So…” Emma trailed off, not really sure what she was planning on saying. 

 

“We’ll stop and get the prescription and some Tylenol on the way to my house,” Regina offered.

 

Emma tilted her head, “I’m staying at your house?”

 

Regina’s eyes widened, looking suddenly alarmed, rushing out, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have presumed. There's a nice bed and breakfast in town. I'm sure they'd have a room available for you to stay in until your car is fixed…”

 

“ _ Regina _ ,” Emma interrupted, or tried to interrupt, the highly amusing rambling. Regina didn't seem to hear her though, so she had to repeat, “ _ Regina!” _

 

Regina startled, her speech stopping, as she eyed Emma carefully.

 

Emma smiled slowly, “I was just teasing. If you'll have me, I'll gladly stay with you.”

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head at Emma. When she spoke though, there was no anger in her voice, “Has anyone ever told you that you're impossible?”

 

“Maybe,” Emma grinned, her tired eyes twinkling as she shrugged her shoulders.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Emma had fallen asleep in Regina’s car for the second time that day by the time they were pulling into the driveway of the large white house.

 

Regina turned off the car and watched the steady rise and fall of Emma’s chest for several long minutes. This time Emma had fallen asleep with her head laid back against the headrest instead of against the window, her mouth was slightly open and a thin line of drool was dribbling out of corner of her mouth. Emma was clearly deep asleep and Regina wished there was a way she could get her inside without waking her but knew that that was wholly unrealistic. With a soft sigh, she finally reached over and shook Emma’s shoulder gently. “Emma,” she murmured softly, “Emma, time to wake up.”

 

Emma made an unintelligible noise, her nose crinkling adorably as she shifted in her seat but her eyes didn’t open.

 

Regina nudged Emma’s shoulder again, still being gentle, “Emma, come on.”

 

More noise that amounted to nothing more than grunting came from Emma. With eyes still closed, a grumbled barely comprehensible, “I don’t wanna,” finally escaped her lips.

 

“Emma, you can’t sleep in the car all night,” Regina tried reason, although somehow she doubted reasoning with a person half asleep was really going to be an effective tactic.     

 

Head still fulling resting against the seat headrest, tired green eyes blinked open, and then closed, and then open again. They stayed open, although just barely, Emma’s head rotating so that she could focus on Regina. “Hi,” she smiled tiredly. 

 

Regina chuckled lightly, smiling back, echoing, “Hi.”

 

Sleepy eyes still barely open, Emma rotated her head back on the headrest so that she was staring out the front windshield. “This is your house?” she said, sounding almost confused. 

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded.

 

“ _ Wow _ ,” Emma said, glancing back over at Regina.

 

Regina chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. She’d bought the house with the inheritance she’d received when her father died. It wasn’t a small house by any means but it was nowhere near the size of the home she’d grown up in. 

 

“Wow,” Emma repeated, her eyes closing.

 

“Don’t close your eyes,” Regina tsked, “You can’t go back to sleep until we get you in the house.”

 

Emma groaned but she blinked her eyes back open, pulling her head off the headrest and reaching down to unsnap her seatbelt. Before Regina could stop her, Emma pushed the car door open and stepped out. Regina’s heart hammered loudly in her chest, worried they were about to have a repeat of the incident in the parking lot. She rushed to get out of her side of the car and over to Emma’s as quickly as possibly. Thankfully though Emma didn’t seem on the verge of passing out like she’d seemed in the hospital parking lot earlier that evening and Regina could feel her heart rate slowing as she led the way inside.

 

There was no house tour or anything else that Cora Mills had taught Regina to be necessary host behaviour. Regina simply brought Emma upstairs to the guest room, retrieving a pair of pajamas from her own room for Emma to change into, while she went to fill a glass of water so that Emma could take the antibiotic and some Tylenol.

 

“Thanks,” Emma smiled sleepily as she swallowed the medication, setting the water glass on the nightstand and slipping under the covers with a yawn.

“You’re welcome,” Regina smiled back, “Do you need anything else? Another blanket?”

 

“I’m okay,” Emma mumbled, her eyes blinking closed for longer and longer periods of time now, clearly beyond exhausted. 

 

“Alright. If you need anything just shout,” Regina suggested. 

 

“Mmhm,” Emma mumbled, rolling over onto her side and curling up in a ball, “Night.” 

 

“Goodnight,” Regina murmured back, lingering in the doorway a moment longer before she left the room, closing the door behind her and heading down to her study.

 

She came back to check on Emma a half an hour later. She was not surprised at all to find Emma sound asleep, breathing evenly. Remembering how Emma had been shivering in the hospital earlier, Regina covered her with the extra blanket before slipping back out of the room. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma slept straight through the night, waking late the following morning to sun streaming in through the blinds. She groaned as she rolled onto her back, memories from the day before slowly coming back to her. She’d been dead tired by the time they’d arrived at Regina’s the night before and she barely remembered climbing the stairs and ending up here in the guest room. She reached up and touched her forehead with the back of her hand, trying to decide if she still had a fever. Her skin felt cool to her touch. It didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t have a fever but it satisfied her. 

 

She made no move to get up for quite some time, content to stare at the ceiling, and stay safely ensconced in the warm cocoon of blankets. Eventually though, the pressure on her bladder forced her to kick away the blankets and slip out of the bed to pad out of the room. Faced with a long hallway on the other side of the bedroom door, Emma’s brow crinkled. One of these rooms had to be a bathroom, right? 

 

She turned right, heading away from the stairs, and trying the first door she encountered. It was not a washroom but the pressure on her bladder was momentarily forgotten as she stared at the pale green walls of the room, at the dark wood crib set up under the window, at the matching dresser, change table, and book shelf lining the walls, and at a cute animal mobile hanging over the crib. 

 

Her brow furrowed in confusion at what was clearly a nursery. Regina hadn’t mentioned having a child. She ran back through all of their conversations, trying to decide if Regina had hinted at it and Emma had just missed it but she was coming up blank. Maybe Regina was pregnant? 

 

After several minutes of just staring, Emma stepped out of the room and closed the door, still confused as she moved one room down and thankfully found the washroom.

 

xxxxxx  

 

Not bothering to change out of the pajamas that Regina had given her the previous evening, Emma descended the stairs to the first floor carefully, looking around with awe. This place was huge and beautifully decorated. She hadn’t really realized how well off Regina was. It was a bit intimidating, if Emma was being honest. It made it hard to imagine why Regina wanted anything to do with her.  _ Because she feels bad for you _ , Emma reminded herself. 

 

She shook those thoughts away, instead focusing on figuring out where Regina might be. She wandered through a few rooms before she found the kitchen and Regina sitting at a table sipping a coffee and reading a paper. She shuffled her feet, hovering in the doorway.

 

Regina looked up from her paper, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, which somehow made her even better looking than usual. Emma’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden thought.  _ Stop that  _ she hissed at her brain. 

 

“Morning,” Regina smiled slowly, setting the paper down on the table and taking her glasses off and setting them on top of the paper. She pushed herself up and out of her seat, “Can I get you something to drink?” she was already moving over towards the cupboards, “A coffee? Juice? Water?”

 

Emma swallowed, “No...I’m fine.” Coffee was increasingly becoming something that she didn’t want. It used to be only the first few days following treatment that she couldn’t stomach it but it seemed now that there were very few days where her stomach was up to dealing with the strong liquid.

 

“Emma,” Regina quirked an eyebrow, “Didn’t the doctor just tell you yesterday that you’re not drinking enough?”

 

Emma groaned. Of course Regina had been paying attention. “Fine,” she grumbled, “I’ll have some juice.”

 

Regina smiled in amusement as she took a glass out of the cupboard, setting it on the counter and opening fridge. “Is apple juice okay?” she called over her shoulder.

 

“Sure,” Emma agreed easily, running a hand over her bald head as she moved over to the table and took a seat across from where Regina had been sitting.

 

“How about food? Do you want something to eat?” Regina asked as she put the juice container back into the fridge. 

 

Emma shook her head, “Let’s start with the juice.”  

 

Regina nodded her agreement, carrying the full glass of apple juice over to the table, setting it down in front of Emma. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked, a hand reaching out to touch Emma’s cheek, presumably to check her temperature.

 

Emma would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel a little like a loss when Regina pulled her hand back. There was something incredibly soothing about the other woman’s touch. “I feel much better,” Emma assured.

 

“Good,” Regina hummed, moving back to her seat at the table, “You don’t feel warm. Although it would probably be best to check with the thermometer.”

 

Emma shrugged that suggestion off, lifting the glass to take a small sip. She could feel Regina watching her carefully, as if anticipating her reaction, and she had a sudden memory of Regina saying she made her own apple juice. She set the glass down and smiled at Regina, “It’s really good. Is this the stuff you make?”

 

Regina beamed, “Yes. I’m glad you like it.”

 

Emma smiled again, taking another sip, setting the glass down again. “So…” she drummed her fingers against the tabletop, “I...uh...have sort of maybe a weird question.”

 

Regina quirked a curious eyebrow, saying nothing. 

 

“I was looking for the washroom upstairs and I noticed that you...uhh...have a nursery?” It wasn’t quite a question, more of an awkward statement, but Emma wasn’t really sure the best way to ask about it. Maybe Regina wouldn’t want to talk about it.

 

Regina’s face went blank a moment, her jaw tightening slightly. Emma could practically see the wheels turning in her head, as if she was debating something, but after a moment she seemed to relax, the tension in her shoulders easing, and she answered, “Yes. I’m hoping to adopt. Well...actually I  _ am _ adopting, I suppose. I’m working with an adoption agency in Boston who assure me one day there will be a baby for me to take home. It’s...a very slow process.” 

 

Emma watched Regina carefully as she spoke. Regina’s expression a fascinating mixture of hopefulness and longing. The revelation that Regina intended to adopt only made Emma admire her more than she already did - Regina would make a great mother, Emma was sure of that. A baby would be so lucky to have her. And, yet, at the same time, a strange feeling that Emma didn’t quite understand settled in the pit of her stomach. She pushed the slight unease away, grinning brightly at Regina instead, telling her exactly what she thought, “Wow. That’s so great. Baby’s are cool. And you’re going to be an awesome mom.”

 

Regina smiled almost shyly at Emma’s words, looking almost nervous, like she desperately wanted to believe that was true. “I hope so,” she said quietly.

 

Emma grinned at her again, “Trust me. You’ve come to my rescue what? Twice now? Three times if you count that first time in the cancer centre parking lot, which we probably definitely should. You’ve got the taking care of other people thing down pat. You’re going to rock motherhood.” 

 

A blush creeped up Regina’s cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you,” she managed to get out and then, clearly uncomfortable with her own reaction to being complimented, she cleared her throat and changed the topic, “So what would you like to do today?”

 

Emma just shrugged. Eyeing Regina a minute before a sudden thought occurred to her, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be volunteering at the cancer centre today?” It was Wednesday after all. 

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded, “But I called this morning and said I’d had an emergency and wouldn’t be able to make it.”

 

“Oh,” Emma couldn’t think of anything else to say.

xxxxxx

 

After much discussion, which involved Emma insisting three times that she really was feeling much better than the day before, they decided to head into town to check on Emma’s car and to have a late breakfast.

 

Emma had put on her same jeans from the day before, sighing, as she usually did, at how once skinny jeans had become loose fitting. She’d finished the outfit with a long sleeve blue cotton shirt that she’d borrowed from Regina. She was actually sort of surprised that Regina even owned it, given that she’d only ever seen Regina in what Emma would consider dress clothes - blouses, and pencil skirts, and blazers, and slacks. Take today for instance, Regina was wearing a burgundy blazer, a black camisole, and grey slacks. She looked phenomenal, of course she did, she  _ always _ looked phenomenal, but, still, Emma couldn’t really understand why she chose to dress so formally on a day off. Emma much preferred jeans and t-shirts.

 

They’d stopped at the mechanic shop first, where there had been somewhat good news - the car was fixable for about $400. Emma had feared the price tag to repair it would be significantly higher, or, worse, that it wouldn’t be fixable at all. It was still money that would have to come out of her rapidly dwindling savings account though, which was a stressful thought. There was more bad news too - the part needed to fix the car had to be ordered, so the car wouldn’t be fixed until late tomorrow at the earliest, which meant Emma would be trapped in Storybrooke until at least then. Okay, well, maybe that wasn’t exactly  _ bad  _ news. The thought of spending an extra day or more with Regina was certainly pleasant enough. 

 

They were now sitting in a little diner called Granny’s - the only real diner in town as Regina explained it.

 

“Is it just me or is everyone staring at us?” Emma asked, as she took a sip of the water a waitress with red streaks in her hair and a barely covered midriff had dropped off at the table. 

 

Regina glanced around the room a minute, seeming to consider it, before she looked back across at Emma, “Yes. Everyone is staring.” 

 

Emma rolled her eyes, “I mean...not that I’m not used to it or anything…”

 

“It’s not you, it’s me. They’re not used to seeing me eat with someone else,” Regina explained.

 

Emma’s brow crinkled at that. Regina usually ate alone? That just seemed kind of sad. “Yes...well…” she said, “People usually at least try and look away when you look back at them at the cancer centre...” She was talking specifically about a guy with glasses sitting one table over who hadn’t looked away from them once since they’d walked in.

 

Regina followed Emma’s gaze, her eyes narrowing, “Sydney,” she called loudly across the room, “Don’t you have anything better to do than stare? Like, perhaps, shouldn’t you be at work? Or does the paper not need you?”

 

Sydney’s eyes widened and he swallowed nervously, “My apologies Madam Mayor. I was just taking an early lunch...but I will...be going now.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes as the man got up to leave, smirking over at Emma, “Better?”

 

Emma laughed. 

 

xxxxxx 

 

Emma ordered pancakes and when the waitress, Ruby, brought them over to the table, Regina stared with narrowed eyes at the plate stacked with four pancakes, topped with strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. 

 

“No,” Regina said, looking up at Ruby, her eyes still narrowed. She motioned to Emma’s plate of food, “This won’t do. The menu didn’t say anything about fresh fruit.”

 

Emma tilted her head in confusion as Ruby’s eyes widened in alarm. 

 

“Sorry?” Ruby said uncertainly, not sure what the issue was.

 

“She can’t have the fruit. You need to take those back and fix it. And don’t just knock the fruit off the top and bring it back, make fresh pancakes,” Regina said evenly.

 

Ruby was nodding reaching for the plate when Emma stopped her.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma waved her arms in a stop motion, “don’t bother. It’s okay, really.”

 

“ _ Emma _ ,” Regina said.

 

Emma looked over at her, “Why do you even know the fruit thing?” Fruit that couldn’t be easily washed was one of the items on the foods to be avoided for cancer patients list that had been provided to her at Chemo 101. She didn’t really think that it was a big deal though. It was more important for patients who were neutropenic, with white blood cell counts too low to fight an infection easily acquired through improperly washed fruit, among other things. She wasn’t neutropenic though - she’d just had blood work done last night, so she knew for a fact that her white blood cell count was high enough. 

 

Regina shrugged a shoulder, “It’s just something I picked up at cancer centre.”

 

“I can just knock the fruit off,” Emma insisted, glancing between a confused Ruby and Regina.

 

“Seriously Emma?” Regina quirked an eyebrow, “You were just in the hospital last night. You really want to risk a further infection?”

 

Feeling stubborn, Emma shook her head, “My blood counts were fine last night. And I’m already on antibiotics.”

 

Regina said nothing, just quirked an eyebrow higher, as if Emma’s argument was less an argument in her favour and instead an argument against her point.  

 

Ruby chimed in then, “It’s no problem. It will really only take a few minutes for Granny to remake the pancakes. I wouldn’t want you to get sick from something you ate here...that would be  _ way _ bad for business.”

 

“See Emma,” Regina said, “Ruby here is being sensible. Why can’t you be too?”

 

Ruby grinned.

 

Emma groaned but knew she had no hope now that it was two against one. She shook her head, but conceded, letting Ruby take the plate away. 

 

When Ruby was gone, she glared playfully at Regina, not actually angry. “You really are going to make a great mom, you know.”

 

They both laughed. 

 

xxxxxx

 

They finished their lunch and then went back to Regina’s house, spending the majority of the afternoon curled up on the couch watching movies. Despite her continued insistence that she was feeling much better today, Emma dozed on and off throughout the afternoon, missing as much of the films as she saw. Regina didn’t mind though, watching the movies quietly while Emma slept, and talking animatedly about them, among other things, whenever Emma woke.

 

Regina made lasagna for dinner, Emma sitting at a bar stool at the kitchen island while Regina did the prep work. They ate in the dining room, the least used room in Regina’s house. It was nice to have company, Regina thought as she watched Emma across the table from her.  _ No _ , she corrected to herself - it was nice to have  _ Emma’s _ company. 

 

After dinner, they stood in the kitchen together, cleaning the dishes, Emma washing while Regina dried. 

 

“Hey,” Emma said, as she handed a rinsed plate to Regina, “I...uhh...I just wanted to say thanks. Because I think I forgot to say it yesterday. So, thanks. For everything. You keep doing these nice things for me. And, I mean...I know thanks isn’t really enough…”

 

Regina set the dried plate down on the counter, throwing the tea towel over her shoulder and interrupting, “ _ Emma _ .” She waited a beat and continued, “You don’t have to keep thanking me for these things. I’m not...I didn’t come to get you yesterday because I was being charitable or expecting thanks. I came to get you because…” she swallowed, hesitating to use the word on the tip of her tongue, but deciding to go for it, “because we’re friends and that’s what friends do.”

 

“Oh,” Emma swallowed thickly, a hand reaching up to run over the top of her bald head. She blinked slowly, green eyes staring at Regina suddenly filled with so much emotion. “It’s just…” her voice was suddenly small, vulnerable, “No one has ever...people don’t usually show up.”

 

Emma’s tongue darted to wet her lips and Regina’s eyes were drawn downward towards them. She stared at Emma’s lips longer than was probably appropriate before she flicked her eyes back up to meet Emma’s. She wasn’t sure what to say. She couldn’t understand why no one had ever showed up for Emma before. It was completely and utterly baffling. Emma was wonderful. Funny and interesting and intelligent and Regina couldn’t understand why she had somehow ended up alone. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about Emma’s life seemed fair to Regina. “Well…” she said carefully, “I’m not most people.”

 

Emma’s lips twitched into a smile, “I know. You’re much better. Much  _ much _ better.”

 

Regina smiled too, her eyes drawn to Emma’s lips again, her heart suddenly hammering impossibly loudly in her chest, a flutter of nervous energy churning in her stomach. She licked her own lips, smiling again, “Well, so are you.”

 

Emma’s eyes were bright and she tipped her head back and laughed, “We’re just too impossibly wonderful people. How lucky that we found each other?”

 

Regina laughed too, “Like fate.”

 

“I don’t believe in fate,” Emma shook her head, although she was still grinning, her eyes dipping down to linger on Regina’s lips a moment before they were looking back up, green eyes locking with brown.

 

“Me either,” Regina agreed, swallowing thickly, her heart still hammering uncomfortably loudly in her chest. She took a small step forward and paused, waiting to see what Emma would do. 

 

Emma didn’t take a step back, she just continued to stare, wide green eyes filled with thick emotion. 

 

When Regina began to lean towards her, Emma leaned forward too. There was only a hairsbreadth left between their lips, they were milliseconds away from kissing, Regina’s eyes beginning to flutter closed, when suddenly Emma reeled backwards, taking a stumbling step away. 

 

Regina’s eyes flew open to find green eyes suddenly looking wild and frantic and uncertain and her stomach dropped instantly. Her mind raced. What had she done? What had she done? What had she done? She’d most definitely just ruined everything. 


	9. When Everything Feels Like the Movies

Regina opened her mouth to apologize but Emma beat her to it.

 

“I...I’m sorry,” Emma rushed out, a hand reaching up to run over the top of her head, her eyes still darting every which way instead of focusing on Regina.

 

Regina took a shaky breath and tried to calm her erratically beating heart. Why was Emma the one apologizing? “No,” she said as evenly as she could manage, “I'm the one who should apologize. I shouldn't have...I'm sorry that I misconstrued the situation.”

 

Emma shook her head rapidly, “No, no, no...you didn't....” she seemed to struggle with what to say. She sighed,“You didn’t misconstrue anything.”

 

Regina’s brow creased at that. She didn't understand. If she hadn't misconstrued the situation then why had Emma pulled back?

 

“We _can't_ do this,” Emma’s eyes still seemed tinged with panic but they finally stopped darting around the room and settled on Regina. Emma swallowed and added quietly, “I have cancer.”

 

Regina brow creased further a moment, her lips pursing. What was Emma trying to say? There was only one conclusion she could come up with and it made her stomach twist uncomfortably. “I know, I'm sorry. I hope you don't think I was trying to take advantage of you. Because I assure you, that wasn't the case,” she said carefully, her words sincere, truly apologetic.

 

“No,” Emma shook her head, “That's not what I meant... _I_ have _cancer_ ,” she said it more firmly now, as if that was supposed to be answer enough.

 

Still completely confused, Regina was becoming frustrated and before she could stop herself she snapped out, “ _I_ know you have cancer, Emma. We met at the cancer centre.”

 

Emma's eyes narrowed a moment and for a second Regina thought she was going to snap something back, instead she sighed heavily. “I'm sorry...I'm not saying this right…” she bit her lip, green eyes less panicked and more vulnerable now, “I have cancer. That means my life consists primarily of trips to the cancer centre, taking more medication than I can count on one hand, and sleeping ten or more hours a day…I'm not _Emma_ , I'm _Emma with Cancer_ . Do you know that I can't even think more than two days ahead sometimes? I try to picture the future and I just...panic. Four more months. I have four more months of this...this limbo. On really bad days, the only thing I can really do is wait for it to be tomorrow…that's what I'm looking at here. Four more months of waiting for it to be tomorrow….” Emma had barely taken a breath as she rambled but she paused then, as if collecting herself. She swallowed and when she spoke again, it was softly, her eyes pleading, “Don’t you see? I couldn't offer you _anything._ ” A hand ran over her bald head nervously as she resumed rambling, “And, I know, I know, a kiss could just be a kiss...but it could be something else too...and I'd just ruin it...I can't...I mean...that’s pretty clear, right? I couldn't be anything but a burden.”

 

Regina softened, tension that had crept into her shoulders the moment Emma had pulled back easing. Her heart leapt hopefully and ached painfully at the same time.  Maybe Emma _did_ want to kiss her. Maybe Emma wanted more than to just kiss her. But Emma couldn't see herself properly. “ _Emma_ ,” the name was a whisper, soft and gentle, “Emma, Emma, Emma,” she repeated, “You do realize that you’ve had cancer the entire time I’ve known you? Emma with Cancer is just Emma to me...the only Emma I know. And I’m not sure exactly what you think is different about the you right now versus whomever you were before your cancer diagnosis...but let me assure you that, if it wasn’t clear, I like Emma with Cancer. I wouldn't spend so much time with you if I didn't.”

 

“But I'm not…” Emma started to protest but Regina didn't let her finish.

 

“No,” Regina said firmly, “If that but is a _but_ I do not want to kiss you because this is much too difficult of a time in my life to be focusing on anything but my health, then go ahead and say that, because I would understand that. If it is a _but_ I don't like you in that manner, then that's regrettable but something I would understand as well. But if you were about to say anything else regarding this ridiculous notion that I would consider you some kind of burden should a kiss turn into more than a kiss, then I do not want to hear it. How _I_ feel about you, or _would_ feel about you, is not a decision that you get to make, that is up to _me_.”

 

Emma's eyes widened slightly, looking surprised, and Regina worried that perhaps she'd been a little too harsh with her words. But she had no intentions of taking it back. Regina was perfectly fine with not kissing Emma. She was perfectly fine with their friendship remaining nothing more than a friendship - disappointed, perhaps, but fine. But she was not even a little bit fine with Emma thinking of herself as a burden.

 

“I…” Emma sighed, “I don't know what to say.”

 

Emma looked so uncertain, like she couldn't possibly understand why Regina wasn't just agreeing that she would be a burden in a relationship. Regina wondered if that was a common thought of cancer patients or if this, instead, was perhaps more related to Emma's years in the foster care system.

 

Regina sighed too. She knew what she wanted Emma to say. She wanted Emma to say _okay_ , to accept what Regina had said. She wanted Emma to _want_ her. But the moment that had nearly passed between them was gone. A kiss now would be awkward and forced, weighed down with the heaviness of the conversation they'd just had. It wouldn't be how Regina would want their first kiss to go. It wouldn't be how she would want _any_ first kiss to go. So she buried her disappointment and shrugged one shoulder and offered an out, “Why don't we just finish the dishes?”

 

Emma blinked slowly, still looking uncertain, hands rubbing against the sides of her legs, but slowly she relaxed, her head bobbing out a yes. “Yeah, okay,” she agreed, shuffling the few steps back to the sink.

 

They washed and dried in silence for a while until Emma broke the spell. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, her eyes focused intently on the pan she was scrubbing.

 

Regina wasn't exactly sure what the apology was for but it was with tenderness that she answered, “Don't be.”

 

Emma looked over at her with hopeful, uncertain, eyes, “You're not mad at me?”

 

Regina shook her head, offering with the same tenderness, “Of course I'm not angry.” It wasn't a lie. She wasn't angry, disappointed, more so than she wanted to admit even to herself, but not angry. How could she possibly be angry with anyone who looked at her the way Emma was looking at her right now?

 

xxxxxxx

 

The next twenty four hours were awkward. Or, at least, they felt awkward to Emma.

 

It wasn't that Regina acted any differently than she had previously, it was that Emma kept looking at her and thinking _we almost kissed_ . It was that Emma kept looking at her and thinking _I want to kiss you_ . But that wasn't an option. Regina might not _think_ that Emma was a burden now but she would. Of course she would. And Emma had to protect herself from the inevitable fall out.She had to protect Regina too. Because Regina might think she knew what she was getting herself into but she really had no clue.

 

Emma felt kind of bad that she bailed the second Billy called to say that her car was ready but she needed space. She needed time to think. Needed distance because she was pretty sure that if she was around Regina for just five more minutes she was going to cave and kiss her.

 

So, it was with both guilt and relief that she eyed the Welcome to Storybrooke sign in her rearview mirror as she headed back to Boston.

 

xxxxxx

 

Two days later, Emma sat across from August in a coffee shop a couple blocks from her apartment. She wiped at her nose with a napkin she scooped from the napkin dispenser on the table. “Ugh,” she groaned, “My nose won’t stop running all of a sudden. It’s driving me crazy.”

 

“Who knew nose hair had a purpose, huh?” August smirked.

 

Emma’s nose crinkled, “What?”

 

“Your nose running. It’s because you have no nose hair,” August clarified, “Good times.”

 

 _Huh_. Emma crinkled her nose again, this time to try and ascertain if August was right. Without a mirror it was hard to tell for sure, though she supposed he would know and hair was hair. “Well...you learn something knew everyday,” Emma shook her head ruefully.

 

“That’s cancer for ya,” August smirked, “teaching you things you didn’t care to actually know.”

 

Emma shook her head again, picking up her cup of hot chocolate and blowing on it carefully before taking a small sip.

 

“How are you feeling anyway?” August asked curiously.

 

Emma shrugged, “Tired.”

 

August nodded knowingly, “Yeah, that’s a given. When I was getting chemo, I slept more hours than I was awake.”

 

Emma wasn’t quite at that point yet, although she was close, and she could easily picture getting there. Every treatment was sort of like getting knocked to the ground and each time she stood back up she was starting out a little closer to the ground than she had the time before. She wondered if she would get to the point where she couldn’t even get up off the ground at all anymore. She hoped not. Although it did sort of feel like that was where she was heading. “I just can’t wait for it to be over,” Emma sighed.

 

August hummed in understanding, taking a swig of his coffee.

 

Emma watched him carefully a minute, sipping her own drink. She set the mug down on the table, leaving her fingers wrapped around it, absorbing the warmth, “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure,” August agreed easily.

 

“Did you ever...date? When you were in treatment, I mean,” Emma asked.

 

“I did…” his hesitation to answer was obvious and he eyed her carefully, “ _why_?”

 

“I just…” Emma shrugged, not finishing the thought, asking instead, “Did it go well?”

 

August still seemed hesitant but after a moment where they just stared at each other, he said, “It didn’t…”

 

Emma sagged in her seat. This was the answer she’d expected but it still left her feeling surprisingly defeated.

 

“ _But_ …” August continued, “that doesn’t mean that it _couldn’t_ have gone well. With the right person. Rachel was just...she wasn’t made of the right stuff. She wanted an easy life. Someone to take her to nice dinners and parties and who would pay for everything. She didn’t want a guy who spent most of his time at the cancer centre or asleep. She didn’t want to put up with me puking, or my steroid induced mood swings, or my sudden utter lack of a sex drive. She didn’t sign up for cancer or chemo side effects and she hit the exit button as soon as it got too hard. I was mad about it at the time...but now...now I see that she wasn’t the kind of girl you’d want around for the long haul. A girl you’d want around for the long haul though...she’d have stayed. Definitely.”

 

Emma gnawed her lip as August spoke. When he finished, she couldn’t quite sort out what to say.

 

Seeming to sense that she was at a loss, August waggled his eyebrows playfully at her, his eyes twinkling, “So are you going to tell me about this person you want to date but aren’t sure about because you have cancer and it sucks or what?”

 

Emma’s eyes widened, “I never said…”

 

August laughed, “Oh come on, it’s written all over your face.”

 

“It is not,” Emma grumbled, which only made August laugh harder.

 

He took a large gulp of his coffee and set the mug back down, holding his hand up in a stop motion, “Wait. Let me guess,” he grinned amused at her, “It’s the brunette from the cancer centre? Regina, right?”

 

“How…” Emma trailed off, her forehead scrunched in disbelief. How on earth could he have guessed that?

 

August grinned even wider, his eyes twinkling almost mischievously, clearly pleased with himself. “It was pretty obvious the other day. The way you brightened when she walked into the lab. You were practically glowing. And her. Well I thought she was going to burn a hole right through me with her eyes when I gave you my number. It’s all the signs of two people who are clearly very much into each other,” he tapped his hands against the tabletop in a rhythm, “So, tell me. I’m right, _right_?”  

 

Emma wasn't sure how she felt about how easily she apparently was to read but she admitted begrudgingly, “Yeah...you’re right.”

 

August grinned again before he sobered a bit, “So what’s the problem?”

 

“I have cancer. Isn’t that problem enough?” Emma sighed, “I mean, your relationship story wasn’t exactly inspiring.”

 

August shrugged, “Regina is a volunteer at the cancer centre. I’d say that that most definitely, without a doubt, makes her _not_ a Rachel.”

 

“Yeah...but…” Emma started to protest but didn’t actually finish the thought.

 

“But what?” August eyed her with a knowing expression, “It might not work? How is that any different than any other relationship?”

 

Emma’s eyes narrowed, grumbling, “It's a little freaking different, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” August conceded, “It is. You'll have less energy to devote to a relationship since most of your focus right now is consumed with getting through treatment. But...like I already said, Regina is a volunteer at the cancer centre, she’ll have a pretty good idea what she's agreeing to. Don’t you think you should let Regina decide what she’s alright with?”

 

“That's what Regina said,” Emma admitted.

 

“Wait,” August’s eyebrows arched up curiously, “You've already talked to Regina about this?”

 

“Sort of,” Emma shrugged, not sure why she was admitting so much to August, but not trying to stop herself either. It was sort of nice to talk to someone who she didn't have to explain any of the cancer stuff to. She rubbed at her face and sighed, “We sort of almost kissed and I freaked out. And I said I couldn't offer her anything...because I have cancer and it’s freaking true. But she sort of just disagreed and said I wasn't allowed to make decisions about how she felt about me that it was up to her. We haven't really talked about it since though. I think she thinks I rejected her. But that's not it...I just...she’s freaking amazing ...she deserves the best. And whatever I am right now,” she motioned to herself, “This is definitely in no way the best.”

 

“I get it,” August said carefully, “I really do. It's hard to wake up every day and look in the mirror and see a stranger. It's hard to wake up every day and know that it isn't over yet, that you still have months and months ahead of you. It's hard to know that even when it's over it isn't really over. You'll still be a person who had cancer. You'll still worry, a lot at first, and a little less over time, that you're going to become a person with cancer again. It's a lot. It's a lot a lot. It’s a lot for you and, you're right, it's a lot to ask someone to take on. It takes someone special for it to be worth trying,” he eyed her even more seriously now, “But if you think that just because you currently have cancer that that means you have nothing to give, nothing to offer to a partner, then you're selling yourself short. And, actually, as someone who's had cancer, as someone who has friends who will have cancer for the rest of their lives, I'm going to take offense to that.”

 

Emma listened attentively as August spoke. She tried to picture it from his perspective. Tried to imagine what she'd tell someone who wasn't herself. She saw what he was saying, she did. It just didn't make it any easier. “I don't know what to do,” she admitted with a sigh. It wasn't completely true - she knew what her heart wanted to her do. Her head was the problem.

 

“You want my advice?” he didn’t wait for her to confirm whether she cared what he thought or not, “I say go for it. Life is too short not to take risks.”

 

It was perhaps the corniest advice she’d ever received but she supposed, as a cancer survivor, August was entitled to be a little corny. Maybe someday Emma would be spouting corny advice as well.

 

Emma’s heart fluttered hopefully. Maybe she could do this.

 

xxxxxx  

 

Afraid that she would lose her never if she waited, after Emma left the coffee shop, she climbed into her car and headed for Storybrooke.

 

It was just before lunch that she saw the Welcome to Storybrooke sign up ahead.

 

Deciding that she did not want to show up empty handed, she made a detour on her way to Regina’s house.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Granny’s dinner was packed, even more so than it had been a few days previously when Emma and Regina had had brunch there. Emma supposed it made sense since it was Saturday.

 

Emma stood uncertainly in the doorway a minute as the bell chimed and all eyes seemed to turn to focus on her. She ignored the stares and moved over to the counter, where Ruby was leaning chatting with someone sitting at the counter.

 

Spotting Emma, Ruby straightened and moved down the counter to stand in front of her. She smiled, “Emma, hi.”

 

Emma smiled back, “Wow. Good memory.”

 

“We don't get too many new faces in town. You're memorable,” Ruby shrugged it off, “speaking of...I heard a rumour that you left town.”

 

Emma’s eyes widened at that. People had been talking about her? She didn't understand small towns at all. “I live in Boston, so yeah, I did leave,” she explained.

 

Ruby nodded **,** “And then you just couldn't stay away because it's such a charming place and so here you are?” Ruby joked, grinning at Emma, her eyes twinkling.

 

Emma chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck, “Something like that.”

 

“So what can I do for you?” Ruby asked, “Do you want to have a seat? Order some lunch?”

 

Emma shook her head, “I was actually wondering...do you do take out?”

 

“Yep,” Ruby nodded, pulling out a pen and her order pad, “What can I get you?”

 

“Can I get two of whatever Regina orders most often for lunch?” Emma asked and then reconsidered, “Actually...what would that be?”

 

“Kale salad,” Ruby provided without even having to think about it.

 

Emma's nose scrunched up in mild disgust, “Yeah okay, no...let me have one of those and one...umm...grilled cheese sandwich.”

 

“Sure thing,” Ruby nodded, “And don't worry, the grilled cheese doesn’t come with fresh fruit.”

 

Emma groaned, “I really am sorry about that hassle the other day.”

 

“It wasn’t a problem,” Ruby waved her off with a hand. She eyed Emma curiously a moment, “Regina sure seemed to care an awful lot about your well being.”

 

It was a statement that sounded more like a question, delivered in the way that Emma knew meant Ruby was looking for gossip - gossip Emma wasn't about to give her. Although Emma couldn't seem to stop the blush spreading across her cheeks as she shrugged noncommittally.

 

Ruby's eyes twinkled in delight, as if Emma had said everything she wanted to hear instead of nothing at all. She scribbled on the order pad, tore the sheet off the pad, and turned to move away from Emma, pausing to call back over her shoulder with a grin, “Your order won't take long.”

 

xxxxxx

 

It really wasn't long.

 

Ten minutes later Ruby was standing at the counter in front of her with a white paper bag with the Granny’s logo emblazoned on the side and two glass bottles.

 

Emma’s order must have been shuffled to top of the pile to be ready so quickly but for the life of her she couldn't sort out why. Was this some kind of because she had cancer thing? She gave up trying to sort it out as Ruby set the items down on the counter.

 

“So Granny says that Regina likes root beer. I gave you two. On the house,” Ruby’s eyes twinkled.

 

Emma wasn't sure what was more surprising, the fact that there was somebody in this establishment who actually went by the name Granny or the fact that this Granny was apparently trying to help her woo Regina - if bringing someone lunch could be considered _wooing_ that was. She wondered if her order being shuffled to top of the pile had less to do with her cancer and more to do with Regina. “Thanks,” she smiled genuinely at Ruby.

 

She paid and collected the items, preparing to leave, a sudden flutter of nervous energy flooding through her as she realized that all that was left to do now was go to Regina’s.

 

“Good luck,” Ruby called knowingly as Emma spun to leave.

 

Emma didn't say so but she thought she could probably use the luck. “Bye Ruby,” she called over her shoulder instead.

 

xxxxxx

 

Standing on Regina’s front porch, bottles of root beer in one hand, the white paper bag in the other, Emma rang the doorbell and rocked nervously on the balls of her feet while she waited.

 

It was only a minute before she heard the padding of feet on the other side of the door, and then the door was swinging open.

 

Regina looked startled to see her, brown eyes wide as she stared.

 

“Hi,” Emma grinned sort of sheepishly, ignoring the way her voice wobbled slightly with her nerves.

 

“Hello,” Regina said back carefully, the surprised look on her face still there.

 

“I brought lunch,” Emma held the bags up higher as if that would help make it clearer.

 

Regina just stared wordlessly a moment and then as if realizing she was doing it, she shook her head at herself and held the door open wider, “Come in.”

 

Emma traipsed into the entrance way, Regina taking the items out of her hands so that she could remove her boots, and her leather jacket, and the knit hat from her head, a hand rubbing immediately over her head as if to smooth down non-existent hair.

 

Regina let Emma take back the paper bag but she kept the root beers as she led the way to the kitchen, setting the drinks down onto the table and moving over to the cupboards.

 

Emma set the paper bag on the table, rocking nervously as she watched Regina yank a cupboard door open. “I'm sorry that I showed up without calling...you umm...haven't eaten lunch yet have you?”

 

Regina paused what she was doing, her head spinning to look at Emma. Her expression was unreadable a moment and then a smile tugged at her lips. “No,” she shook her head, “I haven't eaten.” She turned back away from Emma to grab some plates and placemats and silverware. She carried those items over to the table, setting them down as she eyed Emma, quirking a slow eyebrow at her, “So you drove more than an hour to bring me lunch from Granny’s?” Her tone was an odd mixture of amused and confused.

 

“Yes,” Emma swallowed, helping Regina arrange the placemats and plates on the table. “Well…” she added, as she pulled the food out of the paper bag, handing the kale salad over to Regina, “that and other reasons.” She pulled out the wrapped grilled cheese and set it on the plate she decided was hers, her gaze flickering up to meet Regina’s.

 

“Other reasons,” Regina repeated slowly, an eyebrow quirking high. Her breath seemed to hitch a moment and then she said smoothly, “And what, pray tell, are these other reasons?”

 

Emma swallowed thickly, her heart suddenly hammering loudly in her chest, her nerves mounting, butterflies fluttering uncomfortably in her stomach. “I…” she started but didn't continue, swallowing again as she took one step and then another, moving closer to Regina until they were practically toe to toe.

 

Regina’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating as her eyes darted down to look at Emma's lips and then back up to meet her eyes.

 

Emma swallowed one last time, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, and then she was leaning forward, closing the gap between herself and Regina until their faces were only inches apart. Her eyes fluttered shut as she closed the remain gap, pressing her lips gently against Regina’s.

 

Regina had been standing perfectly still up to that point but she moved then, leaning into the contact, her lips pressing more firmly, insistently, against Emma's, one of her hands reaching up to cup Emma's cheek.

 

When Emma finally pulled back she was a little breathless, probably because she'd completely forgotten that breathing was a necessity, and she was grinning like a dopey fool.

 

Regina, looking a little breathless herself, said, “Can I presume that _that_ was the aforementioned other reasons?”

 

Emma nodded still smiling the same dopey smile, “It's all I've been thinking about for days.” Truthfully she'd thought about kissing Regina long before the almost kiss in this kitchen three days previous.

 

Regina’s lips twitched into a coy smile, “And was it worth the hour drive?”

 

 _Yes_ was the answer on the tip of Emma's tongue. Of course the answer was yes. It was worth a drive twice as long, quadruple as long. Yes was the truth but Regina’s coy smile was doing things to her insides, _good_ things, so instead of saying yes, she waggled her eyebrows up and down, “I dunno...it’s hard to say... _maybe_ we should try it again so I can say for sure.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes, reaching out and smacking Emma's arm playfully but then she snagged that same arm and tugged Emma gently towards her, wrapping her arms around Emma’s waist, their bodies pressing together.

 

Emma's own arms looped around Regina’s neck, as their lips met for a second kiss. Emma sighed contently into the contact, the sigh replaced with a moan of pleasure as her lips parted to grant Regina’s tongue access to her mouth.

 

“Well?” Regina asked with a quirked eyebrow when they finally parted, her arms still wrapped around Emma's waist.

 

Emma was smiling dopily again, “Definitely worth the drive.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma’s grilled cheese was completely cold by the time they finally sat down at the table to eat the lunch she’d brought - not that she cared.

 

She ate small bites of the sandwich, watching Regina across the table, her heart fluttering happily.

 

She wasn't sure what _this_ was. What _this_ would become. And she definitely still wasn't completely sure it was a good idea, not with the whole cancer thing going on. But she decided that, at least for the moment, she wasn't going to think about any of that. Instead she was going to think about how great of a kisser Regina was. At least for the moment, she was going to allow herself to be content.

 

Seeming to sense that she was being watched, Regina looked up from her salad and across the table. “What?” she asked curiously.

 

“Nothing,” Emma shook her head with a smile.

 

xxxxxx

 

Sometime later they were curled up on the couch, the TV on but with the volume turned down low, Emma's head in Regina’s lap, her eyes getting droopier and droopier despite a continued stubborn insistence that she wasn't tired. Regina was pretending to believe her, all the while tracing gentle patterns on Emma's arm, hoping the soothing motion would lull her into a clearly much needed nap.

 

Regina still couldn't quite believe that Emma was here. After Emma’s somewhat hasty departure from Storybrooke, she’d spent the last two days waiting for a phone call, or worse a text message, from Emma saying she didn't want to see Regina again. A large part of her had fully expected Emma to withdraw completely from the friendship they'd built over the last two months. No part of her had expected the opposite. No part of her had expected Emma at her front door. No part of her had anticipated Emma in her kitchen kissing her.

 

“You know,” Emma's voice, laced with tiredness, interrupted Regina’s thoughts, “we might need to worry.”

 

Regina’s brow crinkled as she looked down at Emma, “Worry about what?”

 

“About the twist. There’s always a twist in cancer books and movies. I mean, at the very least someone has to beat the odds and live when everyone thought they were going to die,” Emma explained, her voice sounding oddly serious, “And there are no odds for me to beat. The odds have always been in my favour. So...that doesn't bode well for us. Like. The twists are always awful. Someone almost always dies. Half the time it’s not even the person with cancer.”

 

“I can't tell if you're trying to be funny or if you’re being serious,” Regina eyed Emma skeptically, “Plus wasn't that guy August at the cancer centre just making fun of you the other day for not having seen any cancer movies? When did you become such an expert? ”

 

“Of course I'm not being serious,” Emma said, even though she still sounded much too serious for that to be completely true, “And I'm not an expert...I just did some research…”

 

Not sure what to say to that, Regina just quirked an eyebrow at Emma who sighed softly and closed her eyes.

 

They sat in silence, Regina continuing to trace circles on Emma's arm, thinking she might be finally falling asleep.

 

“I just…” Emma broke the silence, her eyes blinking back open to stare up at Regina, “whatever _this_ is...we aren't tempting fate are we?”

 

Regina eyed her carefully, “I didn't think you believed in fate.”

 

“I don't,” Emma agreed with a soft sigh but she still looked troubled.

 

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina said carefully, seriously, “this _isn't_ a movie, this is real life. There doesn't _have_ to be a plot twist.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma sighed sleepily, “I know.”

 

“Do you?” Regina quirked an eyebrow down at her.

 

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips in what Regina was sure was the most adorable way possible.

 

“Good,” Regina smiled fondly, fingers still running gently along Emma's arm.

 

Emma's eyes fluttered shut and this time they stayed closed, her breathing evening out as sleep finally claimed her.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma ended up spending the night.

 

Regina was pretty sure that the rumour mill at Granny’s turned that into much more exciting gossip than it actually was - Emma had actually spent the night in the guest room, the same room she’d slept in earlier in the week. Ruby seemed to have speculated something different, however, when Regina and Emma walked into the diner for breakfast the following morning. Or, at least, that was what Regina assumed the eyebrow wagging expression Ruby shot at Emma, not at all conspicuously, was about. A suspicion that seemed to be confirmed when Kathryn called her later that night after Emma had headed back to Boston once more.

 

Kathryn didn’t waste anytime getting to the point, “I thought you told me at Christmas that _Emma_ was just your friend.”

 

“I did say that,” Regina confirmed non-committally.

 

“So, why then is it that I’m now hearing about how this Emma has spent multiple nights at your home in the last days?” Kathryn asked.

 

“And where pray-tell did you hear this?” Regina asked, although she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

 

“Frederick and I had dinner at Granny’s tonight. Ruby had all kinds of things to share.” Regina could practically hear the smirk in Kathryn’s voice as she continued, “Emma doesn’t sound much like _just_ a friend to me...”

 

“Oh shut up,” Regina grumbled as Kathryn laughed on the other end of the phone.  

 

xxxxxx

 

January turned into February on the day of Emma's next chemo treatment.

 

There was nothing quite like a chemo treatment to take the sails out of, well, _everything_ . Not that that was all that surprising. But, still, Emma had sort of hoped that the giddiness of a new relationship - if _relationship_ was the right word for whatever was going on between her and Regina - would be a good combatant for anticipatory nausea.

 

It was not.

 

By the time that Regina’s volunteer shift was over and she was pulling up a chair to sit beside Emma's recliner, Emma’s stomach was churning unhappily.

 

Yet, when Regina’s fingers laced with hers, squeezing tightly, she couldn't help but smile.

 

xxxxxx

 

“So I was thinking,” Regina said in the car on the way to Emma's apartment after her treatment, “I could drop you off and then run out and pick up a few things and come back to make dinner.”

 

Emma lifted her head from where it was resting against the window to eye Regina curiously, “You don't have to make me dinner. I won't even be good company. Last time you came over after chemo I slept through an entire movie and then went to bed at 9 o’clock.”

 

“First of all, I wouldn't be making dinner for _you,_ I'd be making dinner for _us._ And second of all, you're still good company even if you're asleep,” Regina said.

 

Emma eyed her skeptically but before she could say anything Regina’s cellphone started ringing.

 

The cellphone was hooked up to the car through Bluetooth and the caller ID flashed up on the car’s display screen - Mother. _No thank you_ , Regina thought to herself and hit the reject call button on her steering wheel.

 

“Did you just hang up on your mother?” Emma eyed her like she was a little crazy.

 

“I'll call her later,” Regina shrugged indifferently.

 

Of course Cora Mills being Cora Mills meant that she wasn't about to just accept that Regina didn't want to talk to her. Less than a minute had passed before the phone was ringing again.

 

“Just answer it,” Emma supplied helpfully.

 

Regina tsked but after the third ring she hit the accept button on the steering wheel. “Hello mother,” she greeted.

 

“Regina darling,” Cora’s voice filled the car, “Why must you always sound so disappointed that I'm calling.”

 

“That isn't true,” Regina shook her head even though Cora couldn't see her.

 

Cora made a tsking sound but she didn't refute Regina’s claim. “Anyhow,” she said, “I’m calling to wish you happy birthday since I couldn't say so in person since you refused to cancel your volunteer shift at that cancer centre and come to Portland to have dinner with me.”

 

Regina groaned at the same time that Emma said, “It's your birthday?”

 

“Who is that?” Cora asked.

 

Regina resisted the urge to groan a second time. She also managed to suppress a sigh. “That is someone from the cancer centre. I'm driving her home.”

 

There was a long pause where Regina could practically hear the wheels turning in Cora’s head. “Is that part of your volunteer duties?” she finally asked.

 

“No…” Regina did sigh then, “Emma is...a friend.”

 

“I see,” Cora said, “Well hello Em-ma. I'm sorry my daughter wasn't polite enough to introduce us.”

 

Emma's eyes widened and she actually gulped before she said, “Hello Mrs. Mills.”

 

“Mother, we’ve really got to go,” Regina interrupted before Cora could get any ideas about asking Emma any invasive questions, “We’re arriving at our destination.”

 

“Very well,” Cora sighed, her voice taking on a surprisingly tender tone, “happy birthday darling.”

 

“Thank you,” Regina said sincerely before hanging up.

 

“Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday!” Emma practically shouted as soon as the phone was disconnected.

 

Regina pulled up in front of her apartment building, putting the car in park as she shrugged a shoulder, “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Yes it is,” Emma insisted, “You should let me take you out to dinner.”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t flat out refuse at first, instead  reaching over and gently cupping Emma’s cheek, stroking her skin softly with the pad of her thumb. Regina was fairly certain she would never get used to the horrible grey tinge Emma’s skin took on after chemo. It made her look so unwell. There was no way Emma was up for sitting in a restaurant right now and they both knew it. “Emma,” Regina said finally, her voice serious, leaving no room for debate, “All I want for my birthday is to cook dinner for you and sit together on your couch. It’s _my_ birthday. Shouldn’t I get what I want?”

 

It was an ace of an argument and, sure enough, Emma sighed softly and agreed.  “Yeah okay...” she nodded, “can I at least come with you to the grocery store?”

 

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina quirked an eyebrow, no argument needed. If Emma wasn’t well enough to sit in a restaurant, she certainly wasn’t well enough to walk around a grocery store.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Emma grumbled in defeat.

 

Regina couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her as she leaned over and peeked Emma quickly on the lips. “Go upstairs and lie day grumbly, I won’t be long.”

 

“Hey, I’m not grumbly,” Emma whined playfully as she opened the car door and got out.

 

“Sure you aren’t,” Regina smirked.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma waited just inside the main door of her apartment building for a few minutes, long enough for her to be sure that Regina would be gone, and then she stepped back outside. She considered hopping in the bug, heading for a bakery and picking up a really nice cake, but discounted the idea as soon as she had it. She was much too sluggish to be driving right now. And Regina would kill her if she found out she had. No. Driving was definitely out. As was walking more than a block or two, which only really left one option - the corner store one block over.

 

The walk took painfully longer than it should have and by the time she was pushing her way through the entrance to the store, Emma was practically gasping for air. She wandered the few aisles trying to decide what to grab - this convenience store was by no means a bakery. Eventually she settled for a box of individually packaged brownies, the kind intended to be lunch snacks, a can of whipped cream, a little thing of rainbow coloured sprinkles, and some birthday candles. An outrageously overpriced sixteen dollars later, she was leaving the convenience store with the items safely stored in a plastic bag, and walking back to her apartment building.

 

By the time she made it up the three flights of stairs and into her own apartment, twenty minutes had passed and she knew she probably wouldn’t have much longer before Regina was back.  

 

Emma dumped the items out of the bag and onto the counter and grabbed a plate out of the cupboard. She tore into the box of brownies, removing each and every one from their individual packaging, stacking them on the plate until they formed a flat pyramid of sorts. Then she took the can of whipped cream and covered the flat pyramid in a layer of fluffy white whipped cream. She used the rainbow sprinkles to decorate the top and then added a few candles.

 

“Tada,” she said out loud to the empty apartment when the makeshift cake was finally done. It wasn’t great by any means. The exact opposite actually. But hopefully the effort would, at the very least, amuse Regina.

 

xxxxxx

 

It only took Regina a little over a half an hour to get what she needed at the grocery store and return to Emma’s apartment building. Balancing two bags of groceries carefully, she knocked on the door to Emma’s apartment and waited.

 

It was only a minute before the door was swinging open. “Hi,” Emma greeted with a tired smile. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a different warm knit hat than the one she’d had on in the car on her head.

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow at her attire, “Cold?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma admitted, grabbing the bags from Regina and carrying them into the kitchen, depositing them onto the counter.

 

Regina pulled her coat off and hung it in the closet, taking her boots off next, before following Emma to the kitchen. Her eyes immediately landed on what seemed to be a lopsided pile of whipped cream, topped with sprinkles and candles. She quirked a curious eyebrow at Emma, “ _What_ is that?”

 

Emma looked up from where she’d been pulling things out of the grocery bags and beamed at Regina, “It’s a cake.”

 

“It’s a cake,” Regina repeated in disbelief.

 

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded, “A brownie and whipped cream cake. They’re all the rage. Didn’t you know?”

 

Regina barely contained a snort, “I guess I missed that memo.”

 

Emma laughed happily at Regina’s reaction.

 

Regina shook her head, an amused smile tugging at her lips, “Where did you even get the ingredients to make this?”

 

“The corner store,” Emma explained.

 

“You walked?” Regina quirked an eyebrow.

 

Emma nodded and then added quickly, “It wasn’t far.”

 

Regina considered chastising Emma for what she thought was probably a bit too risky of a choice but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, not when the reason had been this impossibly sweet gesture. “Thank you,” she said instead, moving over to Emma and wrapping her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug, mindful not to knock the blanket off of Emma’s shoulders. She nuzzled her face into the crook of Emma’s neck, not particularly caring that Emma smelt vaguely of saline and hospital antiseptic.

 

“You like it?” Emma practically whispered, soundly oddly shy.

 

“I love it,” Regina answered.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina sent Emma to lie on the couch while she worked on cutting up vegetables to make stir fry.

 

Emma had been lying on the couch all of five minutes when suddenly blankets were being kicked to the floor and her warm hat was ripped from her head and added to the pile, followed quickly by her socks.

 

Regina watched the display with confusion and mild alarm. “Are you okay over there?” she asked.

 

Emma groaned, sitting up on the couch so that she could see Regina, her face filled with annoyance, as she practically hissed, “Hot flash.”

 

Regina noticed that under Emma’s still grey skin, there was now the slightest tinge of red. She quirked an eyebrow and repeated Emma’s words curiously, “Hot flash?”

 

“Yep,” Emma confirmed with an exasperated sigh, “It seems my new trick of the week is chemo induced menopause. Or, well, I think chemo induced menopause has been a thing for a while. But the hot flashes are new since like Monday. Fun times.”

 

Regina’s eyes widened in surprise at that, hesitating as she tried to decide what the best response might be.

 

“Still sure you want to be my girlfriend?” Emma joked, filling the sudden silence - although her tone was perhaps a little too self deprecating for it to completely be a joke.

 

Regina knew what to say then, smirking slowly, “Oh so I'm your girlfriend now then am I?”

 

Emma’s eyes widened in sudden horror as she finally realized what she'd actually said. “I...uhh...I…”

 

Regina didn't let the stammering go on long, cutting it off with a laugh, “Oh stop it. I was just teasing you.”

 

“Huh?” Emma's brow crinkled making her looking adorably confused.

 

Regina paused her chopping, regarding Emma carefully before offering as nonchalantly as she could manage, “If you would like to use the title girlfriend….I could be agreeable to that.”

 

Emma’s lips tugged into a grin, “I could be _agreeable_ to that too.”

 

“Are you making fun of my word choice?” Regina quirked an eyebrow, setting the knife down and moving from the kitchen into the living room, stopping in front of the couch.

 

“Who me?” Emma's grin widened, “Never.”

 

“You're impossible,” Regina shook her head as she leaned down to press her lips to Emma's. Her breath hitched as Emma reached up to tug her down onto the couch beside her, tangling a hand in her hair and deepening the kiss.

 

They were both breathless when they parted and Emma shivered.

 

“You okay?” Regina eyed her carefully.

 

“Yeah, just cold again,” Emma shrugged, “Hot flash is over, I guess.”

 

Regina nodded her understanding, standing up and reaching for the items in the pile on the ground. She handed Emma the hat and the socks and held onto the blankets until Emma had put the other items back on. “Lie back down,” Regina urged and Emma did as instructed. Regina covered Emma carefully with the blankets, smoothing them out with her hands. Satisfied, she pressed a kiss to Emma's forehead and then moved back to the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready.

 

xxxxxx

 

They had dinner followed by the makeshift cake, Emma insisting on lighting the candles and singing Happy Birthday before they could eat it.

 

Later, after Emma had fallen asleep with her head on Regina’s shoulder and woken with a start not once but twice, Regina said, “I should go, so you can get to bed.”

 

Emma looked like she was going to protest but she conceded with a sigh. “I'm sorry _this_ was how you had to spend your birthday,” she mumbled, sounding half asleep.

 

“Emma,” Regina hummed softly, reaching for one of Emma's hands and lacing their fingers together. She raised their joined hands and pressed a gentle kiss to Emma's knuckles before lowering their arms back down so that their joined hands were resting in her lap. “I wish today hadn't been a chemo day because I wish that you didn't have _any_ chemo days. I hate that you have to go through this…” she squeezed Emma's hand, “But, honestly, getting to spend this birthday with you puts it pretty high up on my list of best birthdays. It's right up there with the year that I turned four and got the barbie castle that I so desperately wanted.”

 

Regina could see the emotion flashing through Emma's eyes, could see how much Regina’s words seemed to mean to her. Emma swallowed thickly squeezing Regina’s hand which was still joined with hers once and then she smirked, “Barbie castle, huh?”

 

Regina chuckled, not at all surprised that Emma had deflected the conversation away from the serious, as she has a tendency of doing when she was feeling vulnerable. “It was the Evil Queen edition. I was quite thrilled with it.”

 

Emma tipped her head back and laughed.

 

xxxxxx

 

They had their first disagreement three days later over the phone.

 

“I was thinking I would come by today,” Regina suggested just before lunchtime.

 

Emma was curled up in her bed, wrapped in every blanket she owned and she had no intentions of moving any time soon, except to maybe go take a warm bath to help with the aching in her bones. “No,” she spit out immediately at Regina’s request.

 

“No?” Regina sounded puzzled.

 

“It’s just...not a good day,” Emma mumbled. Regina had never actually seen Emma on a _really_ bad day and Emma preferred to keep it that way.

 

“Not a good day _how_?” Regina asked for clarification.

 

Emma sighed deeply, choosing her next words carefully, “I just wouldn’t be good company....”  

 

“ _Emma_ ,” there was a hint of irritation in Regina’s tone, enough that it was clear that she was displeased with Emma’s evasiveness, “ _why_ don’t you want me to come see you?”

 

Emma wasn’t sure what Regina was trying to imply - maybe nothing - but the irritation in Regina’s tone must have been contagious because Emma’s response was snappish, “Look. I feel like shit, okay? I’ll be better in a few days. You can visit then. Or I’ll come see you.”

 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, followed by a sort of confused, “That’s all?”

 

Even more irritated now, Emma snapped out, “ _Yes_ that’s all.”

 

“Oh Emma,” Regina said in the way that meant Emma had missed something. Emma could practically hear Regina shaking her head, “Of course you don’t feel well. I know that. You had chemo three days ago. I thought I could come help out. Make you something to eat. Maybe do a load of laundry for you?”

 

It was Emma’s turn to be silent for an extended period. “Looking after me isn’t your job,” she finally said, “I’m fine.”

 

“Emma,” Regina sighed softly, “I know it’s not my job. But could you consider for one second that maybe it’s something that I _want_ to do? That maybe coming to see my girlfriend and helping out in whatever way I can while she’s not feeling well is something that might be important to _me_.”

 

Emma was silent again, this time not able to find a single thing to say.

 

“Are you still there?” Regina asked when more than a minute had passed with no response.

 

“Yeah,” Emma said quietly.  

 

“Well…” Regina said carefully, “can I come over?”

 

“I…” Emma gnawed her lip, “yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Okay,” Regina sounded pleased.

 

“O-okay,” Emma agreed, sort of puzzled about what exactly had just happened.

 

“Did you want me to bring anything specific?” Regina asked.

 

“Umm...no,” Emma shook her head even though Regina couldn’t see her.

 

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few hours then,” Regina said, “See you soon.”

 

“See you soon,” Emma repeated back, hanging up and eyeing her phone still puzzled for a long moment. She supposed as far as disagreements went, it actually wasn’t much of one. Although, she couldn’t quite figure out how Regina had gotten her way so easily.

 

She hoped that she wouldn’t regret letting Regina see her like this, at her absolute worst.   

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma had texted her to tell her that the door was open for her and to just come in. Regina wasn’t sure how she felt about Emma leaving her door unlocked but she said nothing about it - although she did make sure to lock the door behind her once she was in the apartment. She put away the few grocery items she’d brought with her, and deposited a bag of a few other things she’d brought on the table, and then she went to find Emma.

 

She found her girlfriend in her bedroom - thinking the word _girlfriend_ still brought a ridiculous surge of warmth to her chest. She approached the bed where Emma was snuggled under a mountain of blankets, the room dark save for the light filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. “Hey,” she said softly as tired green eyes blinked open to stare up at her. Emma was as pale as Regina had ever seen her but at least her skin seemed to have lost the horrible chemo day grey tinge. Regina reached down and ran a hand tenderly over the top of Emma’s head, the only part of her really accessible, “How are you?”

 

“M’kay,” Emma mumbled sleepily.  

 

Regina smiled gently down at Emma, running her hand over her head once more, as if smoothing non-existent hair. She leaned down planning on kissing Emma gently but Emma twisted her head out of the way before their lips could connect. Regina quirked a curious eyebrow at her.

 

“Sorry,” Emma mumbled, looking embarrassed, or maybe worried, “My mouth is….a nightmare.”

 

Regina wasn't one hundred percent sure what _nightmare_ meant but she said certainly, “Don’t be sorry.” She eyed Emma tenderly as she continued to stroke her head, “Can I get you something?”

 

Emma shook her head.

 

Regina pulled her hand back to regard Emma seriously. She quirked an eyebrow at her, “Have you had anything to drink today?” She had a suspicion she knew the answer.

 

Sure enough, Emma mumbled a sheepish, “No.”

 

Regina shook her head at her, “You’re supposed to be keeping yourself hydrated.”

 

“But my mouth is gross,” Emma whined, sticking her bottom lip out and pretending to pout, “I hate water.”   

 

Regina couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her mouth at the ridiculous yet adorable expression on Emma’s face. She shook her head again, “What about something other than water?”

 

“I don’t really have anything but water,” Emma admitted.

 

“I could go get something,” Regina offered.

 

“But you just got here,” Emma said, shuffling a little in the bed so that the blankets pulled even tighter around her.

 

Regina shrugged a shoulder, “It’s either I go find something else, or you have some water.”

 

Emma heaved an exaggerated sigh, teasing, “Who invited you here anyway?”

 

Regina smirked, “I invited myself actually.”

 

Emma laughed lightly, grimacing as she did so, as if the motion had upset some kind of balance, and for a moment she slammed her eyes shut.

 

Regina subconsciously held her breath while she waited for Emma to open her eyes back up. When green eyes were looking at her again, she quirked an eyebrow, “So? What will it be? Water? Or do you want me to go get something else?”

 

Emma blinked slowly. “Water,” she finally sighed.

 

“Good girl,” Regina smirked, bending down and pressing a kiss to the top of Emma’s head before leaving to room to head back to the kitchen.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina poured a glass of water. She left it on the counter and dug through Emma's cupboards, thinking she might be able to find something to add to the water that would help. Maybe sugar or honey or _something_. It was a long shot, so she was surprised when at the back of the pantry, she found something perfect. Stirring it in, she paused long enough to grab her book out of the bag of things she’d brought, and headed back into the bedroom.

 

Regina set the book on the nightstand and held the glass out for Emma, “Here, have a some of this.”

 

With a groan, Emma slowly pulled herself into a seated position. It was only then that Emma seemed to register that something was up with the glass of water Regina was holding. Green eyes widened, “Why is is purple?”  

 

Regina couldn’t help but grin at Emma’s reaction, “It’s Kool Aid. I’m not sure why you had an over sugary drink intended for children in your cupboard...other than to confirm my suspicions that you eat like a child...but I thought it might help if the water had some flavour.”

 

“Hey…” Emma whined at Regina’s light teasing but she reached for the glass, taking a couple of sips, before looking up at Regina as if to say _satisfied?_

 

“Well?” Regina asked curiously.

 

Emma seemed to consider it a moment, “It is better than water.”

 

“Good,” Regina smiled, “you should drink some more.”

 

Emma groaned but she obliged, taking a large gulp before handing the glass back to Regina.

 

Regina settled the glass on the nightstand and then stood somewhat uncertainly on the edge of the bed. “Would it be alright if I sat in here while you nap?” Regina asked carefully, her eyes flickering to the book she’d set on the nightstand. She wanted nothing more than to sit with Emma but she wasn’t sure if that was what Emma would want. Maybe Emma would prefer to nap alone?

 

Emma followed Regina’s gaze to the book, eyeing it a moment and then looking up at Regina with soft green eyes. “Sure,” her lips twitched into a smile as she shifted over in the bed, making space for Regina at the same time as she shuffled back out of her seated position and back down so that she was lying on her side, curled up in a tight ball. “Turn the lamp on,” she added, “So you can see your book.”

 

Regina nodded, turning on the lamp on the nightstand before climbing up into the space that Emma had made for her.

 

“Here, take this,” Emma said, reaching up and pulling the pillow out from under her head and handing it over to Regina. “Take it,” she repeated more insistently when Regina didn’t immediately grab it.

 

Hesitantly, Regina reached for it, settling it between herself and the headboard, quirking an eyebrow at Emma, “And where are you going to put your head?”

 

Emma shrugged, shuffling her body a little closer to Regina.

 _Oh_ Regina thought, suddenly understanding Emma’s intention. She smiled fondly, as she opened her arms, “Come here,” she said softly.

 

Emma smiled again, shuffling even closer, staying curled up in a ball but settling her head on Regina’s stomach. She pulled the covers tightly over them, covering Regina’s lower half and all of herself except her head.

 

Regina smiled, settling an arm over Emma’s back.

 

“Mmm...” Emma mumbled sleepily, pushing her head further into Regina’s stomach, “this is nice.”

 

Regina just smiled fondly, running a hand tenderly over Emma’s back, until green eyes drooped back closed. She never did reach for her book, content instead to watch Emma sleep. Eventually her own eyes grew heavy and she joined Emma in dreamland.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina woke from the nap with a start, confused for a moment, until she got her bearings. The amount of light flickering through the blinds slats was significantly less now and a glance at the alarm clock on Emma’s nightstand confirmed that it was nearing dinner time. She hadn’t realized she was tired. She stretched carefully as she eyed Emma who still seemed to be sleeping.

 

The movement must have woken Emma though, because within a few minutes she was shuffling, making soft grumbling sounds, and then green eyes were blinking open, her head turning to look up at Regina’s. “What time is it?” she mumbled.

 

“Dinner time,” Regina answered.

 

“Mmm…” Emma made an unintelligible noise at that, her eyes fluttering back shut.

 

Regina rubbed Emma’s arm, “I was going to make pasta for dinner. What do you think?”

 

Emma didn’t say anything but the way she stilled was answer enough.

 

The reaction confused Regina. She knew Emma liked pasta and she’d thought soft noodles would be easy to digest. “Do you not want pasta?” she asked carefully.

 

“It’s fine,” Emma mumbled, green eyes opening to look up at Regina once more.

 

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina said seriously, waiting for the real answer.

 

“It’s just...my mouth...pasta sauce will hurt,” she admitted quietly.

 

Regina sighed softly, glad Emma had admitted the issue but wishing she hadn’t had to pry it out of her. She rubbed Emma’s arm again, “What if I don’t put any sauce on it? Just noodles and butter?”  

 

“Oh,” Emma’s eyes widened, although Regina wasn’t sure if the surprise was do to the suggestion or Regina’s easy concession. “Yeah, okay,” she agreed.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma ended up eating her bowl of plain noodles in bed. Although Regina wasn’t sure they should count the literally only four mouthfuls Emma consumed as _eating_ . She was somewhat alarmed when Emma begrudgingly admitted that this was the most she’d _ever_ eaten on a post-chemo Saturday. Regina’s heart ached painfully picturing Emma on all of her previous post-chemo Saturday’s, so sick and so alone. She vowed to herself then that Emma would not spend another post-chemo Saturday alone.

 

After dinner, Regina did the dishes and a load of laundry, while Emma had a bath, apparently her second of the day. Then they watched a movie - well, Regina watched the movie, Emma watched thirty minutes of the movie and her eyelids.

 

Sometime later they found themselves curled back up together in Emma’s bed. They hadn’t really discussed it but at some point the understanding that Regina would be spending the night had passed between them.

 

“Goodnight Emma,” Regina whispered in the dark.

 

“Night, ‘Gina,” Emma mumbled back, an arm flinging out and settling across Regina’s waist, pulling her closer.  

 

Warmth flooded Regina’s chest and she was reminded of her previous thought - yes, there was no way she was leaving Emma alone on a post-chemo Saturday ever again.  

 

xxxxxx

 

The Wednesday of Emma's next treatment, the first of cycle number four, Regina’s phone rang just as she was getting ready to leave. She considered ignoring it for a split second but then with a sigh she moved from where she was putting on her coat in the entranceway over to the phone, picking it up.

 

“Good morning, Regina speaking.”

 

Regina’s eyes widened in surprise as the voice on the other end of the phone began to speak, her heart rate immediately increasing.  

 

“Yes, hello, this is Carol from the Boston Adoption Agency calling. We’ve just had an adoption fall through for a three week old baby boy…”

 

Regina could barely keep up as the voice on the other end of the phone continued to provide details. Her mind was racing. _A baby._ This was it. After all of those months of waiting, she was going to bring home a baby. Her heart soared and excitement bubbled in her chest. _A baby._ She could hardly believe it. It had begun to feel like it would never happen but now it was. She was going to be a mother.

 

“Ms. Mills?” The voice on the other end of the phone interrupted her racing thoughts.

 

“Sorry,” Regina swallowed, “Could you please repeat that?”

 

“I know it's short notice but would you be able to come to our office today? We need to place the baby today.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Regina agreed without a second thought, “I can be there this morning.”

 

“Wonderful,” Carol said before hanging up.

 

_A baby boy._

 

Regina grinned in a way that she was sure made her look like a buffoon but she couldn't care less. She was downright giddy.

 

She quickly made a mental list of everything she needed to do, and all of the things she had to gather, before she could head to Boston.

 

It occurred to her immediately that at the top of the list had to be to call Emma - she wasn't going to make it to Boston in time to bring Emma to the cancer centre now.

 

Amongst the excitement and anticipation, a new feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, something like uncertainty. What would Emma think? Would she be excited for her? They'd spent so much time talking about Emma's cancer and how that would and wouldn't effect them but they'd never really talked about _this_. About what Regina becoming a mother might mean to them. What if it was some kind of deal breaker for Emma?

 

Regina shook her head at herself. She was being ridiculous. Emma knew that she was in the process of adopting and if she had reservations about that she certainly would have brought them up.

 

Still, she gnawed her lip as she dialed Emma's number, and by the time the phone had rang a second time she'd decided that she would just say that something had come up and that if Emma could take a cab to the cancer centre, she'd be there to pick her up later. There was no sense telling Emma about the baby until she actually _had_ him. After all, what if she went to the adoption agency and the whole thing fell through? Emma didn't need to be worrying about that, not on a chemo day. Yes, she decided, it was best to wait until later to tell Emma her news.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...hopefully the like 6,000/10,500 words of basically pure fluff in this chapter made up for the cliffhanger from last chapter :P  
> We're heading into the home stretch now. Thank you so much for all of your support so far, I love hearing what you all think. :)


	10. Henry

Regina had never believed in love at first sight. It seemed like a ridiculous notion meant only for fairy tales.

 

And then she sat in a room at the Boston Adoption Agency waiting in anticipation until they brought in the itty bitty baby who was to be her son and she knew instantly that she’d been wrong. 

 

All it took was one look at his squishy little face for the surge of warmth to flood through her chest.  _ This _ was most definitely love at first sight. 

 

The worker put him in her arms and at first all she could do was stare in wonder down at him until he squirmed, fussing. She cradled him closer, rocked him gently until he settled. “Hi there,” she whispered to him, lifting him higher so that she could press a kiss to the crown of his head, breathing in his sweet baby scent, “I'm your mommy. I’ve been waiting to meet you for a very long time.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Babies could not be brought into the chemo suite. No one under the age of sixteen was allowed, actually. Not that Regina really wanted to introduce her son to her girlfriend while Emma was tethered to an IV pole. She did feel bad that Emma would have to endure the entire treatment alone but there wasn’t much she could do about it.   

 

Instead she texted Emma near the time she knew her treatment would be over and said she'd be waiting outside. 

 

The one word response,  _ Okay _ , came a few minutes later and Regina sighed, wondering what Emma was thinking right now. She doubted it was anything particularly positive.

 

Parked and waiting in the loading area in front of the cancer centre, she undid her seatbelt and spun in her seat, leaning awkwardly into the backseat to check on the baby in the rear facing car seat. He was sound asleep, his little chest rising and falling  and she smiled contently, twisting her arm into an almost uncomfortable position, so that she could rub his arm. “You're going to meet someone really important soon,” she whispered to him, “she doesn't know about you yet. So you're a bit of a surprise. I think...I hope...she’ll like you.” 

 

Regina continued to watch the steady rise and fall of the baby's chest for a few minutes before her twisted position became too uncomfortable to hold. She righted herself in the driver's seat just in time to see Emma step out of the front entrance to the cancer centre. 

 

Emma paused uncertainly at the entrance, looking around. She seemed to relax as she spotted Regina’s car and started heading towards. 

 

“Hey,” Regina said, smiling as Emma climbed into the car. 

 

“Hey yourself,” Emma smiled back tiredly, leaning over to press her lips to Regina’s.

 

The kiss was interrupted by sudden squealing from the backseat, not quite a cry but likely about to turn into one.

 

Emma pulled back her eyes wide with confusion, her head spinning to the back seat to try to locate the source of the sound. Seeing the car seat directly behind her passenger seat, Emma’s head turned back towards Regina, the question written all over her pale, grey, face. 

 

“The reason that I wasn't here today,” Regina said carefully, “is that the adoption agency called this morning…”

 

“You got a baby?” Emma said as if she couldn't quite believe it. 

 

As if wanting to confirm his presence, the baby chose that moment to begin full blown crying.

 

Regina twisted immediately in her seat to check on the baby. “Hey, hey, hey,” she murmured, a hand reaching out towards him but he only wailed harder. Still twisted in her seat, she looked back towards Emma, “I think he's probably hungry.”

 

“Oh,” Emma still looked a little stunned, “Can you umm...feed him here?”

 

Regina shook her head, “I have to mix the formula.”

 

Emma gnawed her lip, looking uncertain, “Should we take him to my place, then?”

 

“Yes,” Regina agreed, twisting back in her seat, the baby's continued wailing making her chest ache.

 

Emma, still looking uncertain, asked, “Should I sit in the back with him?”

 

Regina couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips at the offer, worry about how Emma would react immediately beginning to fade. “If you want to,” Regina answered.

 

Emma nodded, pushing the car door open and getting out. There was a momentary pause where she reached a hand out to support herself against the car, obviously dizzy, but before Regina could insist she sit back down, she seemed to have gained control of her balance because she was moving around the car and climbing in behind the driver seat.

 

In the backseat, Emma slid over so that she was in the middle seat, right next to the car seat. Regina watched through the rearview mirror as Emma leaned over the car seat,  reaching a hand towards the baby and resting it on what Regina could only guess was his belly since she couldn't quite see. “Hey there kid,” Emma murmured gently, “Are you hungry?”

 

Perhaps because he was startled by the sudden presence beside him, the baby’s cries quieted and Regina watched a smile tug at the corners of Emma's mouth. Her heart swelled with fondness and love as she watched the scene through the rearview mirror. She stared a moment longer before doing up her seatbelt and pulling away from the curb.

 

After a few minutes of driving in silence, Emma looked away from the baby and caught Regina’s eye in the rearview mirror. “What's his name?”

 

“Henry Daniel Mills,” Regina supplied with a smile, “Henry after my father and Daniel after…” she hesitated. They'd only really discussed her first love vaguely. 

 

Emma seemed to know though because her words with filled with understanding as she finished Regina’s sentence for her, “after the person you lost back in Portland.”

“Yes,” Regina swallowed thickly, her eyes meeting Emma's through the rearview mirror once more, finding sudden comfort in the reassuring, understanding, look her girlfriend gave her. 

 

Offering Regina a gentle smile, Emma tested out the name, “Henry,” she said, letting the name resonate around the car a moment before she smiled wider, “I like it.” She turned her attention back to the baby beside her, “What do you think, Henry? Do you like it too?”

 

The baby, of course, had no response, he didn't even make a sound, but Emma beamed, cooing at him, “Yes you do.” 

 

That same flood of warmth filled Regina’s chest again. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina lugged Henry in his car seat, detached from the base, along with a rather large diaper bag, which Emma offered to carry and was refused with nothing more than a look, up the three flights of stairs to Emma’s apartment. Still, Emma managed to be more out of breath than Regina by the time they were standing in front of the door to her unit and she could feel the concerned eyes on her. 

 

“I wish you had an elevator,” was all Regina said. 

 

“Yeah,” Emma agreed as she pushed the door open and they traipsed into the apartment, discarding coats and boots.

 

Henry was crying again and Regina moved his carrier into the kitchen, lifting him out of the seat and cradling him close to her chest, rocking him as she used her other hand to open the diaper bag, fumbling through it as she continued to rock the baby. 

 

Emma watched the scene with wide eyes for a long moment, hesitant and uncertain. But Regina seemed to be struggling to find what she was looking for and Henry was somehow shrieking louder now and Emma stumbled forward into the kitchen, “Can I help?”

 

Regina looked over at her, sighing in what seemed to be relief, “There's a bottle in there and a tin of formula. Can you dig it out?”

 

Emma nodded, rummaging through the bag and extracting the items. “Now what?” Emma asked uncertainly as Regina continued to try and calm crying Henry.

 

They read the label together and Emma followed the mixing instructions while Regina hovered at her side. Regina took the bottle as soon as it had been thoroughly mixed, adjusting Henry in her arms and bringing the bottle to his lips. He latched on and immediately quieted, cries replaced by the sound of him guzzling the formula. 

 

Emma watched Regina watch Henry eat. Regina’s face was filled with wonder and adoration, as if her world had been reduced to just him. The sight did something strange to Emma. There was the fluttering of fondness, her heart impossibly happy at the sight of Regina so content. But there was something else, something uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach that wasn't just nausea from the chemo and a tiny voice in the back of her head whispering unwelcome thoughts, telling her that Regina wouldn't need her around now that she had Henry to love. It was a ridiculous thought, she knew it, and yet her brain just continued to whisper it over and over. After all, Regina hadn’t even told her about the adoption when she called this morning. That said something, didn’t it?

 

As if finally sensing the eyes watching her, Regina looked up, a soft smile spreading across her face. 

 

“He  _ was _ hungry,” Emma said, forcing herself to smile back. 

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded, her eyes dropping back down to Henry.

 

xxxxxxx

They ordered pizza for dinner. It had been Emma’s suggestion, Regina agreeing mostly because Emma never suggested anything when it came to food, but Emma wasn't really eating, just poking at the piece she'd put on her plate, picking the toppings off. 

 

Regina watched Emma worriedly from across the table, only looking away periodically to check on Henry who was asleep in his carrier at her feet. “Are you okay?” she finally asked.

 

Emma blinked slowly looking up from her plate and across the table. She shrugged, “I’m fine.”

 

Emma didn’t sound all that fine and Regina’s lips pursed in response as she debated whether or not to push. “Was your treatment okay today?” she finally decided on a question.

 

Emma shrugged again, “Same old, same old.” 

 

Regina sighed, not so much at the answer but at Emma’s suddenly distant tone. She wasn’t sure what had happened between the car ride and now but her stomach knotted. She wanted to yell, wanted to force Emma to tell her what was suddenly so wrong, but instead she chose to remain silent.

 

Emma peeled more topping from the top of her pizza, discarding most onto the side of the plate and nibbling slowly on a single piece of pepperoni. “How come you didn’t tell me about the adoption this morning?”

 

The question was so quiet that Regina barely heard it. She looked up and over across the table with eyes unable to contain her surprise. Was this why Emma was acting odd? She studied Emma carefully, wishing she could read her mind for just a second. “I didn’t know if everything would actually go through. It just seemed...surreal. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. Not on a chemo day,” she finally said.

 

“Oh,” Emma said, tired green eyes giving little away, her forehead crinkling slightly. She was quiet for a long time, her attention back on the pizza she was tearing apart but not eating. “Would you have told me? If it hadn’t turned out?” the question was directed at her plate, green eyes only looking up after she’d asked it.

 

Regina’s heart clenched as she watched Emma. Emma was trying very hard to hide her feelings but Regina could see the hurt there now. Regina hadn’t thought about how Emma would perceive her choice not to tell her about the call from the adoption agency. She was an idiot. “Emma,” she sighed softly, “of course I would have told you.”

 

Emma’s eyes flickered almost hopefully then, as if she really wanted to believe that, wanted to believe that Regina did value her enough to share these sorts of things with her. “Really?” the question was almost timid. 

 

“Yes,” Regina said firmly, resolutely, wanting there to be no doubt. 

 

“Okay,” Emma breathed out. She picked up her decimated piece of pizza and took a small bite. “Okay,” she repeated, her entire body finally seeming to relax. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma ate half her piece of pizza, swallowed her next dose of anti-nausea medication down with a glass of purple Kool Aid mixed from one of the individual serving packages Regina had stock piled in her pantry, and then they headed into the living room.

 

Henry was awake again and Regina lifted him carefully from his carrier as Emma settled herself on the couch.

 

“Don't you want to take him home?” Emma asked.

 

Regina looked over at her, “There's no rush. He's a baby. It's not as if he's anxious to see his new home.” She smiled at the words  _ new home _ , that same wonderfilled expression she had when she looked at Henry taking over her features, like she really still couldn't believe this was happening. 

 

Emma smiled too. This amount of happiness looked good on Regina, it somehow made her even more beautiful. 

 

“Did you want to hold him?” Regina asked, motioning with her head down to the baby in her arms.

 

Emma gnawed her lip uncertainly, reaching up to tug down on the sides of the warm knit hat she'd put on earlier to try and ward off the cold that seemed to settle in her very core following treatment, “I...uhh…”

 

The happiness on Regina’s face was replaced with hurt, clearly misreading Emma's hesitation and Emma rushed to fix it, “I've just…” she swallowed, admitting, “I’ve never held a baby before. I don't...you know...want to do it wrong.” It was true. She generally got sent back from foster homes  _ before  _ the baby arrived. And it wasn't as if in her adult life she had any friends with children - it was hard to have friends with children when you didn't have friends. Babies were cute and all but they also seemed very breakable. Emma definitely didn't want to do something wrong and wind up hurting Henry. 

 

Regina relaxed, smiling again, seeming amused now. “You just have to support his head. It isn't difficult. You'll be fine.”

 

Emma still felt uncertain but she nodded, “yeah okay.” 

 

Regina smiled again, transferring Henry from her arms into Emma's and then sitting down next to Emma on the couch. 

 

Emma swallowed thickly at the sudden weight in her arms, looking down at the baby whose head was now resting in the crook of her arm. He squirmed a bit and her eyes widened in sudden worry, she adjusted her grip, pulling him closer to her chest reflexively and he stopped moving.  He was surprisingly warm pressed against her like that and she smiled, whispering, “Hi.” 

 

Henry looked up at her with wide almost curious eyes. It was as if she could see him thinking  _ who are you _ ? He’d looked at her the same way when she’d sat beside him in the car. Now though, it was as if she suddenly understood why Regina kept looking at him with so much wonder in her expression. Emma stared at him transfixed for several minutes, at his long eyelashes and chubby cheeks and the tuft of dark hair on the top of his head, before she looked over at Regina, “You know,” she said, “he's got more hair than I do. I'm kind of jealous.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes, laughter bubbling out of her chest, “You're ridiculous.”

 

Emma just grinned. At least for the moment, the voice in the back of her head reduced to nothing more than a quiet, barely there, whisper. 

 

xxxxxxx

 

Regina left with Henry when it became clear that it was time for Emma to call it a night.

 

Emma didn't wake the following day until long after the sun had risen. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, recalling the details of the oddly vivid dream. It wasn't the vividness of the dream that was odd - vivid dreams had become a post chemo staple - but the way the content of the dream had left an almost painful ache in her chest.

 

She'd dreamed she was standing in her living room watching Regina walk out the door to her apartment without so much as a glance back at her. And even just remembering it now felt like someone was twisting a knife in her gut.

 

“It was a dream,” she growled out loud to herself, “stop being stupid.”

 

She laid in bed a few more minutes before she forced herself to get up. She knew she had a narrow window today where she would feel well enough to do anything and there were things she needed to get done before she needed a nap.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma wandered aimlessly around the baby store that Google had told her was popular. She browsed a rack of sleepers in complete confusion. What was with these sizes? Would Henry still be newborn? What did 3 months mean? Why wasn't there a 1 month? 6 months was definitely way too big, right?

 

Her complete bewilderment must have been obvious because a sales associate approached her, offering kindly, “Did you need some help?”

 

Emma looked over at her, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yes...umm...what size would a baby who is 3 weeks old wear? He's like…” she held out her arms to indicate his size, “ _ this  _ big ish.”

 

The sales associate smiled, “I'd go with 3 months. That generally fits babies up to three months.”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled.  _ That's _ what 3 months meant? They should have signs in this place. “Thanks,” she returned the sales associate’s smile.

 

“Of course,” the sales associate nodded, adding, “If you need anything else let me know,” before leaving Emma to make her decisions.

 

Emma considered the choices in front of her and eventually settled on a grey and red and white striped sleeper that reminded her of the hat Regina had picked out for her, and a dark blue sleeper with tiny dinosaurs printed all over it. Items in hand, she headed for the checkout counter but before she made it there she was distracted by a display table filled with plush toys. She approached the table, fingers reaching out to stroke the nearest toy and  _ wow, _ she thought, it was perhaps the softest thing she'd ever touched. She contemplated the choices a moment, eventually snagging a bunny with floppy ears and soft brown fur and green glass bead eyes and heading the rest of the way to the front counter.

 

The same sales associate who’d helped her was at the cash register. “Did you find everything okay?” she asked as she began to ring items through. 

 

Emma nodded, distracted by the gift bags lining the wall behind the counter, “Could I...umm...get a gift bag too?”

 

The sales associate nodded with a smile, “Of course.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma made one more stop and then she was on her way to Storybrooke. It wasn't until she was parked in Regina’s driveway that she realized that she hadn't actually called ahead. Or, perhaps, she  _ had  _ realized but it was easier to blame her increasing forgetfulness - what her oncologist had called chemo brain - than to admit the truth to herself, that the part of her brain that still continued to whisper that Regina wouldn’t want her now that she had Henry had thought that if she called ahead, Regina might say not to come. 

 

Feeling unexpectedly nervous now, Emma stood on the front porch and knocked on the door, gift bag in one hand, a bouquet of flowers that she’d picked up at her second stop, in the other. 

 

It was a long time before the door swung open. Long enough that Emma was starting to wonder if maybe Regina wasn’t home. Maybe she’d gone to work today? Emma had just assumed she’d be taking some time off because of Henry but maybe that had been a bad assumption/ She was lost in thought when the door finally did swing open and she startled.

 

Emma’s first thought as she took in Regina standing in front of her with Henry resting against her shoulder, was that Regina looked frazzled. She was in the least formal clothes Emma had ever seen in her in - yoga pants and a loose fitting top. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and her eyes looked tired. It also sort of seemed like maybe she hadn’t brushed her today. Regina’s expression was filled with confusion, clearly surprised to see Emma

 

“Hi,” Emma said, rocking on the balls of her feet.     

 

“Why aren’t you at home resting?” was what Regina said back.

 

Emma frowned at the response. Was showing up here a mistake? Was Regina mad about it?

 

Perhaps because of Emma’s frown, Regina added quickly, “Sorry...that came out wrong. Come in, come in.” She moved over so that she wasn’t blocking the entryway, making room for Emma to enter the house.

 

Emma hesitated, feeling suddenly very uncertain, “I’m sorry I showed up without calling…”

 

“Emma,” Regina sighed, bouncing Henry lightly, “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. Please come in already, it’s cold out. That isn’t good for you or the baby.”

 

Emma gnawed her lip but she nodded, moving into the entryway and letting Regina close the door behind her. She kicked off her boots and then held up the items she’d brought with her, “I come bearing gifts.”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow at her, teasing, “You brought Henry flowers?”

 

Emma rolled her eyes but she couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of her and she relaxed, “No you goof, I brought flowers for  _ you _ . That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Bring people flowers when they have babies? Especially when they’re your girlfriend. I’m pretty sure that’s a rule.”

 

Regina chuckled, shaking her head, but she was smiling brightly. “Thank you,” she said as she leaned over to press her lips to Emma’s.

 

Emma was cautious of Henry still resting on Regina’s shoulder now between them, but she leaned in closer and kissed Regina back. Her mouth was already on its downward spiral to horrible land though, so before Regina could try and deepen the kiss, she pulled back. 

 

Regina seemed to understand because she just smiled at Emma again, reaching up with one hand to try and smooth her hair, the other hand still holding Henry firmly to her chest. “I might have tried to brush my hair if I’d known you were coming. I know I look terrible. Henry was up all night. I barely slept.”

 

“Stop it,” Emma shook her head, “you look fine. Better than fine. Beautiful.” When Regina quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her, she shrugged and added, “Look. I’m bald. And I tried to count my eyelashes this morning and I’m pretty sure I only have like thirty two give or take a couple left. Also, I only have enough eyebrow hair left to make one good eyebrow. I’m approaching alien territory here,” she wagged a finger playfully at Regina, “So I don’t want to hear anything more about how terrible you think you look.” 

 

“Emma…” Regina started softly but seemed to think better of turning this into a serious conversation when that clearly hadn’t been Emma’s intent, instead she sighed softly and smiled, “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen, so we can put the flowers in a vase.”

 

Emma nodded, gladly following Regina out of the entryway and towards the kitchen.  

 

xxxxxx

 

The flowers got put in a vase and then they moved into the living room. Emma taking Henry from Regina while Regina opened the gift bag.

 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Regina told Emma has she held up one of the sleepers, a smile on her face.

 

“Oh come on,” Emma scoffed, “As if I wasn’t going to get the kid something. I mean...how else am I going to win him over? I’m dating his mom. He’s got to like me.” She looked down at Henry, who she’d settled on her knees, his little feet smooshed up at against her stomach, “You hear that kid? You gotta like me, okay?” 

 

Emma was kidding, her eyes were doing the thing they did when she was joking, but there was something else in her expression. It was anything specific that Regina could really put her finger on, but it was something nonetheless, and it left Regina wondering if maybe Emma was at least a little serious. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. A part of her, the part of her that hadn’t been sure how having a child would affect their relationship, was happy that Emma cared so much about Henry liking her, it was definitely a good sign for their future. The bigger part of her though worried about what Emma might actually be thinking. Did she think Regina was just going to leave her if she wasn’t some kind of baby whisperer?   

 

Henry gurgled up at Emma. 

 

“Was that a yes?” Emma asked, the question directed at Regina not the baby.

“Emma,” Regina shook her head, her voice not matching Emma’s teasing tone, soft instead, “Of course he’s going to like you. What’s not to like?”

 

Emma just shrugged, ducking her head, and Regina didn’t push. She pulled the next sleeper from the bag, admiring it, before she pulled out the plush bunny. She was surprised at how soft it was and she stroked its fur carefully. 

 

“I didn’t know what to get. Baby stores are  _ way  _ scary,” Emma said, her voice suddenly so earnest, “I hope...do you like it?”

 

Regina looked over at her, the fond smile impossible to suppress, “It’s great, Emma. This was...very sweet of you. Henry and I are very lucky.” Regina’s heart fluttered as she wondered how exactly her luck had turned around so quickly. In a few short months she’d gone from what many would likely call a recluse to a woman with a kind, sweet, girlfriend and a baby boy.    

 

Emma didn’t seem to know what to say, blushing slightly as she ducked her head to look back down at Henry, a hand reaching out to stroke his belly.

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Emma’s focus on Henry and Regina’s focus on Emma watching Henry, until Emma looked up. “I...uh...need to use the washroom,” she said, lifting Henry from her lap into her arms and standing carefully, turning to hand him off to Regina but freezing, her face suddenly ashen, her eyes slamming shut, and her voice high pitched, alarmed and urgent, “Take him, take him, take him...”

 

Regina sprung up, her heart hammering in sudden terror as she grabbed Henry from Emma, lifting him up and onto her shoulder as she simultaneously eyed Emma up and down, trying to figure out what had suddenly gone so wrong. She could only guess that it was a wave of dizziness, and her still hammering heart had her demanding in her firm mayor voice, “Sit down.  _ Now _ .”

 

Emma nodded wordless, eyes still shut as she stumbled backwards and dropped to the couch, head bending to rest in her hands which were propped up on her knees. She took slow, shaky, breaths.

 

Regina moved swiftly to deposit Henry in his chair swing, which she’d set up in the living room earlier that day, and then moved quickly back over to the couch. She sat down beside Emma, so close that their legs were touching, and she placed a hand on Emma’s back. Worry still coursed through, twisting her stomach in knots, “What’s wrong?”

 

“Dizzy,” Emma mumbled between slow, still shaky, breaths. 

 

Regina’s lips pursed, the hand on Emma’s back beginning to rub soothing circles.

 

It was a few minutes before Emma lifted her head from her hands, her head tilting to look over at Regina, green eyes filled with horror, “I’m so sorry...is Henry…”

 

“Henry is fine,” Regina rushed to reassure her, her hand still rubbing Emma’s back.

 

Emma still looked horrified, “I didn’t think...I should have…what if...” she gulped, looking visibly nauseous. 

 

“ _ Emma _ ,” Regina interrupted, her voice firm, “I was right there. And Henry is absolutely fine.” 

 

Emma looked like she was going to protest but must have decided against it when Regina shot her a look that said she wasn’t going to win an argument about this. 

 

“Are you okay now?” Regina asked, still worried.

 

Emma nodded slowly, her eyes sliding shut a minute and reopening as if she was testing it out. 

 

Regina eyed her seriously, “Did you mention this to your oncologist? It seems to be happening a lot lately.” She remembered the way Emma had reached for the car when she was getting out of it just yesterday, along with a half dozen other incidents that she could bring forth if she really thought for a minute. 

 

Emma sighed, “Sort of…”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow, “Sort of? What does that mean?”

 

“Well…” Emma sighed again, “turns out that my red blood cell count took a bit of a nose dive. I asked Belle, the nurse, if that could cause dizzyness. She said it could definitely be a contributing factor.”

 

Regina swallowed, watching Emma carefully. She wished Emma had told her this before. Maybe she would have if Regina had been at the cancer centre with her this week. Guilt wasn’t particularly helpful though, so Regina sighed, and asked, “What are they going to do about it?”

 

Emma shrugged, “Nothing? I mean...it’s not, like, low enough that I need a transfusion or anything.”

 

“And it’s because of the chemo?” Regina prodded, wanting more details.

 

Emma nodded, offering nothing else.

 

“So...is it going to get worse?” Regina still wasn’t satisfied. 

 

“I don’t know,” Emma shrugged, “I didn’t ask.”

 

Of course Emma hadn’t asked. Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, surprised at the sudden thought that popped into her head - she wished she’d been in the room when this was discussed, wished she’d had the opportunity to ask her own questions and get the facts first hand. 

 

“It’s not a big deal, Regina,” Emma said.

 

Regina shook her head but she didn’t refute Emma’s claim. What argument was she supposed to use here anyway? Instead she rubbed Emma’s back once more, “Do you want to try to stand again?”

 

Emma sighed, “Yeah.” 

 

This time Emma lifted herself from the couch incredibly slowly and Regina watched with bated breath. “Okay?” she asked when Emma was completely upright and there were no visible signs that she was dizzy.

 

Emma nodded and then made her way carefully out of the room, pausing at Henry’s swing, where Regina could swear she heard her whisper  _ sorry _ . 

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina wanted Emma to stay for dinner, or possibly longer, but Emma had left her anti nausea medication at home, and, so, a few hours after she’d arrived, Emma prepared to leave again.

 

“Bye kid,” Emma said in the entryway, bending to kiss the baby in Regina’s arms on the top of his head before straightening back up.

 

“I’m worried about you driving,” Regina said, not for the first time, eyeing Emma carefully for some sign that she should try and force her to stay. She was sure that they could get Dr. Whale to write a new prescription for Emma’s anti-nausea medication if she were to stay. But would the pharmacy be able to fill it? Would they carry the medicine that Emma needed? 

 

Regina’s thoughts were interrupted by Emma waving her off with a hand, “I’ll be fine. I’ve still got a few hours of energy left in me for today.”

 

Regina still didn’t feel convinced, or maybe she just didn’t want Emma to leave, but she conceded with a soft sigh, “Alright. Just...let me know when you get home. Please.”

 

Emma chuckled, as if Regina’s worry was amusing to her. Her eyes twinkled as she leaned over and kissed Regina gently, “I promise.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina didn’t relax until she got the text message that Emma had made it back to Boston and was now apparently curled up on her couch about to take a nap. Even then, the worry didn’t complete leave her. Regina couldn’t help but think that she would have much preferred if Emma had stayed. She liked it better when Emma was close, when she could see that she was okay, when she could take care of her. Regina hated the thought of Emma alone in her apartment. She couldn’t deny that what she really wanted was for Emma to stay here with her and Henry. But she also couldn’t deny that it was much too earlier in their relationship to suggest that to Emma. She was pretty sure that would be considered rushing things by almost anyone’s standards. It would certainly scare Emma, right? 

 

Henry squirmed in her arms, distracting her from her thoughts.

 

“Hi,” she whispered down to him, the soft smile inevitable as he blinked up at her. “You wouldn’t mind if Emma stayed here with us, would you?” she cooed at him.

 

Henry, of course, said nothing.  

 

xxxxxx    

 

Two days later, Regina was once again wishing that Emma was staying with her and not in her apartment in Boston but for a different reason - she cursed the three flights of stairs as she climbed her way to Emma’s apartment with Henry in his carrier and the diaper bag over her shoulder. She was exhausted, barely having slept for three days straight, Henry waking frequently, and the climb with the carrier seemed even worse than it had been on Wednesday. 

 

Emma’s door was, once again, unlocked, and with a shake of her head, Regina walked into the apartment, looking around for her girlfriend, not surprised when the main living area was vacant. Based on the last time she’d been here on a post-chemo Saturday she was expecting to find Emma in her bedroom. She brought the carrier with her into the bedroom, where, sure enough, Emma was curled up on her side.

 

Green eyes blinked confused over at her, “Regina?”

 

Regina’s brow crinkled, not sure she understood Emma’s confusion. She set Henry’s carrier down on the floor and approached the bed, a hand reaching out to stroke the top of Emma’s head, “Hey.”

 

Emma still looked confused but she sighed contently as Regina stroked her head. 

 

“I suppose I didn’t call,” Regina said out loud, still trying to sort out the source of Emma’s confusion.

 

“I didn’t think...with Henry…” Emma didn’t really complete the thought but what she was trying to say was clear.

 

Emma hadn’t expected Regina to show up because Regina had Henry to take care of. The sudden understanding broke Regina’s heart a little. Especially because she actually  _ had _ considered that it would be much easier to stay home, but she’d also remembered the promise she’d made to herself just two weeks ago that Emma wouldn’t be alone on a post-chemo Saturday, remembered how sick Emma had been, and she’d immediately packed up everything she needed and loaded Henry into the car. She’d never been deterred by things that were difficult before. It was how she’d become mayor at such a young age, after all.

 

“Well, I’m here,” was all Regina said. It was firm and reassuring. 

 

Emma smiled, her eyes blinking shut.

 

Regina smiled too, fondly, but then she couldn’t help but frown, “If you weren’t expecting me, why did you leave the door unlocked?’

 

Emma’s eyes snapped open, looking confused again, “The door was unlocked?”

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed.

 

“Oh,” Emma’s brow furrowed, “I must have forgotten to lock it after I came back from the store yesterday…”

 

“The door has been unlocked since  _ yesterday _ ,” Regina quirked a disapproving eyebrow at Emma.

 

Emma squirmed under the scrutinizing gaze, “I guess…”

 

“That isn’t very safe, Emma,” Regina couldn’t help but chastise. 

 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Emma grumbled, “stupid chemo brain.”

 

Regina sighed but she let it go, stroking Emma’s head once more, “Can you watch Henry for a few minutes? I’ve got to go down to the car to get a few more things I brought for him.”

 

“Sure,” Emma agreed.

 

Regina kissed her chastely, knowing that Emma would only allow the quick connection of their lips, nothing more, at this stage of her post-chemo recovery, “I’ll be right back,”

 

xxxxxx

 

The portable playpen she’d brought for Henry, along with another bag filled with groceries and a few other items, was awkward to lug up the stairs and Regina sighed with relief when she was finally back in the apartment. 

 

Regina put away the groceries and left the portable playpen in the living room for now before she went back to the bedroom to check on Emma and Henry. She froze in the doorway, overwhelming warmth flooding through her at the sight she was greeted with.

 

Emma was lying on her back on the bed. She had removed Henry from his carrier and settled him so that he was sleeping on her chest. She had one hand protectively resting on his back, the other folder over her lower abdomen, just under his feet, and her eyes were closed.

 

Regina couldn’t help but pull her phone out of her pocket and snap a picture, wanting to capture the moment that still had her heart fluttering happily.

 

The flash must have startled Emma because her eyes blinked open, her head turning to look over at Regina. “I wasn’t sleeping,” was what she said, as if she thought Regina was about to get angry with her.

 

Regina just smiled at her, walking over to the bed. She stroked Henry’s cheek with one finger, bending to press a kiss to his head, before she turned her head so that she could kiss Emma too. 

 

“He was fussing,” Emma explained when Regina pulled back.

 

Regina nodded, smiling again, “Well, he isn’t fussing now….” the smile turned into more of a teasing smirk, “I suppose those outfits and the bunny you bought him must have done the trick...he clearly likes you.” 

 

Even though Regina was obviously teasing her, Emma just smiled, “Good.”

 

xxxxxxx 

Regina set Henry’s playpen up in the bedroom, lifting him off of Emma’s chest and transferring him carefully into the playpen, before climbing up beside Emma in the bed. 

 

Emma rolled over onto her side, curling back up into the ball she’d been in earlier, the position much better for controlling the angry ocean in her belly. It also made it easier to rub her aching shins - not that rubbing them really helped but it distracted from the pain a little bit at the very least. “I’m sorry I smell,” she mumbled as Regina shuffled closer to her in the bed.

 

Regina eyed her like she was crazy, “What?”

 

“I think my pores are oozing out chemo,” Emma explained. It was a common problem she had on the days after a chemo treatment, although today for some reason it felt worse than usual. She could smell herself, the awful chemical like smell, Regina must be able to too.  

 

Regina was still eyeing her like she was crazy though, “Emma, you smell like soap. That’s it.”

 

“Oh...well...I had a bath earlier…” Emma’s brow crinkled, “Are you sure?” That couldn’t be right, could it? What was she smelling, then? Maybe it was the taste awful taste in her mouth making her think she smelled bad? 

 

Regina chuckled, somehow amused by what Emma was sure was a serious problem, “I promise you don’t smell, Emma.”

 

“Oh…” Emma repeated. Still not completely convinced but allowing herself to shuffle closer to Regina and settle her head on Regina’s chest.

 

One of Regina’s arm draped over Emma’s back and she yawned slowly, “I’m so tired.”

 

Now that was something Emma understood. “Let’s sleep,” Emma suggested.

 

Regina hummed her agreement and within minutes they were both in dreamland, where they stayed until Henry woke screaming, needing to be fed two hours later.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Regina wanted to stay overnight at Emma’s apartment but sitting up in her bed, Emma shook her head vehemently. “You were just telling me how Henry is having a hard time falling into a routine. Sleeping somewhere that is not his home isn’t going to help.” The statement was punctuated by a look that exuded stubbornness.   

Regina’s lips pursed. Emma wasn’t wrong. Emma was probably actually right. But that didn’t mean Regina liked the idea of leaving Emma here alone. Her stay here last week had taught her that Sunday was just as bad as Saturday for Emma. The same thought she’d been having for days - that she wished Emma would just come stay at her house - naggled its way to the forefront of her brain but she quickly squashed it back down.  “What will you do tomorrow?” Regina asked carefully.

 

“Lie on the couch and wait for it to be Monday?” Emma offered, her tone teasing, but her eyes serious. 

 

Regina sighed, “What if you need help with something?”

 

“Regina,” Emma shook her head, “I know how to take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

 

Regina’s lips pursed again. She didn’t want Emma to have to take care of herself anymore. That was the point.

 

“Seriously,” Emma said when Regina didn’t immediately speak, “please take the kid home so that he can sleep in his own house. You don’t have to worry about me. I promise.”

 

Regina sighed again but she felt herself nodding in agreement.

 

xxxxxx

 

Five days later, once Emma was fully recovered from her last chemo treatment, or as recovered as she was going to get, because there was no such thing as fully recovered anymore, she headed back to Storybrooke.

 

It was a planned visit, so she was surprised when someone other than Regina opened the front door. An older woman who eyed her suspiciously, “Hello, may I help you?”

 

“Umm…I...uhh...” Emma stammered under the scrutinizing gaze, hands rubbing nervously against the side of her pants.

 

“Mother!” Regina snapped from somewhere inside the house, “Let her in.”

 

The woman, Regina’s mother apparently, arched her eyebrows, but she held the door wider so that Emma could come into the entryway.

 

Regina hurried the rest of the way into the entryway, Henry in her arms, mouthing  _ sorry _ to Emma.

 

“And who praytell is  _ her _ ,” Regina’s mother inquired. 

 

“This is Emma,” Regina explained her posture rigid.

 

Emma watched the exchange curiously as she pulled off her coat and her boots and her hat. 

 

“Emma…” Regina’s mother said carefully, “your  _ friend _ from the cancer centre?”

 

Emma twitched uncomfortably at the way Regina’s mother said  _ friend.  _ She hung up her coat and waited for Regina to respond. If Regina didn’t want her mother to know they were in a relationship, Emma could play along. 

 

“Actually…” Regina swallowed hard, “mother...Emma is my girlfriend.”

 

Regina’s mother’s eyebrows arched impossibly high at that revelation but when she opened her mouth to speak all she said was, “I see.” She turned her scrutinizing gaze back to Emma, looking her up and and down twice before she held out her hand for Emma to shake, “A pleasure to meet you, dear.”

 

Emma’s eyes darted over to Regina, worried that this was some kind of trap, but Regina just looked baffled. Emma swallowed, turning her gaze back to Regina’s mother and accepting the handshake, “Nice to meet you too ma’am.”

 

Regina’s mother recoiled a bit, “No need to call me ma’am. My name, Cora, will suffice.”

 

Emma swallowed again, nodding her head, “Cora, got it.”

 

Cora’s lips tugged into a tight smile and then she said, “Well I’m going to make myself a cup of tea,” and with that she spun and left Regina and Emma in the entryway.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Regina rushed out once Cora was gone, “she just showed up. I called to tell her about Henry but I didn’t expect to just...show up here.”

 

Emma shrugged, “She’s your mother, Regina. Of course she’d want to meet her grandson.”

 

Regina just looked bewildered, “Yes, well...I’m not sure about how I feel with her in the same house as you. She has a historic record of disliking my significant others and treating them awfully.” 

 

“Oh come on,” Emma laughed, joking, “I have cancer, she has to be nice to me. It’s, like, one of society’s rules.”

 

Regina just quirked an eyebrow. 

 

Emma laughed again, shaking her head, “Seriously? What are you worried about? What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

“Emma Swan,” Regina hissed, “Are you trying to jinx us? Who says things like  _ that _ ?”

 

“Regina Mills,” Emma’s eyes twinkled, “Are you really the kind of person who believes in curses?”

 

Regina groaned but she followed Emma out of the entryway and towards wherever her mother had gone.

 

xxxxxxx

 

The afternoon was surprisingly pleasant. Cora seemed enamoured with Henry, and beside a few sly remarks, she was surprisingly nice to Emma as well. Regina was just starting to think that maybe Emma had been right when, of course, she was proven wrong. She should have known better than to let her guard down.

 

She’d left to make Henry a bottle and when she turned around she was surprised to find her mother standing in the kitchen with her. 

 

“Just making more tea,” Cora said, holding up the mug as if that proved her point. She glided over to the counter and plugged the kettle into the wall. Only then did she turn to stare at Regina with calculating eyes that Regina knew meant she was about to say something that Regina wouldn’t like. “So how long have you and Emma been seeing each other?” It was a much tamer question than Regina had been anticipating. 

 

Regina studied her mother carefully, her guard up, but she couldn’t figure out a reason not to answer, “We’ve known each other a few months. And been in a relationship...for a few weeks.”  

 

“A few weeks,” Cora repeated, her expression filled with disapproval but she didn’t say anything else right away, focusing on adding a new tea bag to her mug. 

 

Regina’s jaw tightened as she measured out the formula powder carefully, waiting for whatever Cora would have to say next. She knew her mother, she knew that she would have more to say.

 

Sure enough, after minutes of silence, Cora added, “And you think  _ now _ , with a new baby, is the right time for a new relationship?”

 

Regina sighed, looking over at her mother. Why couldn’t she just be happy for Regina? Why couldn’t she just be supportive? “It isn’t ideal timing,” Regina admitted tensely, because there was never any sense in lying to her mother. Still, she was not willing to let her mother shake her and she added firmly, confidently, “But when is the timing ever ideal? Emma is sweet and kind. She’s a great person and she’s surprisingly good with Henry. Henry and I are lucky to have her.”

 

“Regina,” Cora shook her head, the disapproval on her face still present, “She has  _ cancer _ .”

 

“I know that mother,” Regina snapped in annoyance as she added water to the bottle. 

 

“Do you?” Cora quirked an eyebrow, “You have a newborn. Taking care of a baby is difficult enough as it is. Why on earth would you want to add having to take care of an adult on top of that? Why would you chose a difficult relationship?”

 

“It’s not…” Regina started to protest but Cora cut her off.

 

“Don’t lie about it Regina.”  

 

“Okay fine,” Regina snapped, slamming the bottle she was shaking down on the counter, incredibly angry now, “Is the fact that Emma has cancer difficult? Of course it is.” She wasn’t about to stand here and let Cora cut up her relationship with Emma, especially not on the basis that Emma had cancer, but the rant she was preparing died on her lips, her eyes widening in horror, as she spotted Emma standing at the entrance to the kitchen, Henry in her arms.

 

Emma was pale, her eyes wide and unfocused, “I...uhh...sorry…” she said, looking everywhere but at Regina and Cora, “Henry spit his pacifier on the floor. I just wanted to rinse it. But...uh...I’ll come back…” She spun and nearly ran out of the kitchen.

 

“Emma!” Regina called after her, starting to follow but pausing to spin to face her mother, a finger raised threateningly in her direction, “Stay in here.”

 

For once, Cora had the good sense not to say a word and to do as she was told.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Emma had Henry settled in his swinging chair by the time that Regina caught up to her. Emma was still beyond pale, her focus remaining on Henry, nudging the chair so that it would swing gently, and refusing to look over at Regina. 

 

“Emma…” Regina said impossibly softly, stopping only an arm’s length away from her. 

 

Emma still didn’t look over at her and Regina noticed then that her entire body seemed to be shaking. Actually, Emma was looking increasingly unsteady on her feet and, worried, Regina said carefully, “Will you sit please?”

 

“I’m fine,” Emma snapped, green eyes finally turning to look over at Regina. Regina was expecting anger but the overwhelming expression on Emma’s face was sadness.

 

Regina sighed, her heart clenching painfully, “Emma...what did you hear?”

 

Emma stiffened, the flash of hurt in her eyes unmistakable. “Enough,” she finally said, trying so hard, and failing, to seem unaffected.

 

“So then you heard me tell my mother how lucky Henry and I are to have you?” Regina prodded, wanting to make a point.  

 

Emma stiffened even further but the sudden flicker of uncertainty in her eyes told Regina that Emma clearly hadn’t heard the entire conversation, only the part that had been so easy to misinterpret.

 

Emma was still shaking, her entire body vibrating, and Regina was worried about that maybe more than anything. Regina tried her previous request again, “Will you sit please? So we can talk?”

 

Emma swallowed, her posture still rigid, but she bobbed her head once and shuffled slowly over to the couch, dropping down. She still looked impossibly sad, defeated almost, and her gaze dropped to the floor, as Regina settled onto the couch beside her.

 

“I’m sorry...” Regina started, reaching over for Emma’s hand, sighing when Emma flinched and moved it out of reach. “Would you look at me for one second?” 

 

Emma took a shaky breath but slowly she looked up from the floor, green eyes locking with brown ones.

 

“Thank you,” Regina whispered. She took a careful breath and then she said, “I want you to hear the rest of what I was about to tell my mother when you walked in. I was going to say that of course the fact that you have cancer is difficult. Watching someone you...” she hesitated, the word  _ love _ popping into her head but sticking in her throat. She knew right then, with absolute certainty, that it was true, that she did  _ love _ Emma. But she didn’t want to say it like this. Didn’t want Emma to think she was only saying it to try and fix the mess she’d made. She swallowed thickly and started again, “Watching someone you care about suffer is  _ awful _ . There is very little that is  _ easy _ about this relationship, Emma. Not your cancer. Not the fact that I just adopted a baby. Not that I have to consider Henry in all of my decisions from here on out. But I don’t care. You know why? Because there might be very little that is easy about any of this...but the only thing that matters, _ is _ . Choosing you, wanting you. It’s so easy. And it doesn’t even matter why. It’s just is. It’s something that I know without any thought. You’re the person I want to spend all my time with. You’re the person I want to tell  _ everything _ …” Regina paused, taking a breath, “And I know, I know what you’re thinking...I didn’t tell you right away about the adoption agency calling...but I wanted to. You’re the only person I cared to tell about Henry. You’re the only person I care to tell about  _ anything _ . Emma...I…” Regina was out of things to say, she didn’t know how much more convincing she could be and so she just pleaded with her eyes for Emma to believe her, to believe what she was saying. 

 

Emma’s expression was almost unreadable for so long that Regina was shocked when her lower lip began to tremble and tears filled her eyes. “I…” Emma swallowed, “I don’t want things to be difficult for you.”

 

“Emma,” the name was a whisper as Regina reached a hand out to gently caress Emma’s cheek, relieved when Emma didn’t flinch or pull away. She cupped Emma’s cheek, running the pad of her thumb across soft skin over and over and over again, “things aren’t nearly as difficult as they would be without you.”

 

A single tear spilled over, rolling down Emma’s cheek and Regina caught it with the pad of her thumb as Emma’s eyes fluttered shut to prevent any more from escaping. Regina leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to one eyelid and then the other, smiling softly when green eyes, still shiny with unshed tears, fluttered back open to stare at her. “I’m so lucky to have you,” Regina told her, her thumb resuming its previous gentle pattern against Emma’s cheek.

 

Emma shook her head, reaching up and snagging Regina’s wrist, stilling the motion and tugging the hand down so that she could press a kiss into Regina’s palm, “I’m the lucky one.”

 

Regina blinked slowly, just staring at Emma a long moment, before she offered an alternative, “Perhaps we’re both lucky.”

 

Emma just shrugged, smiling slow and soft. 

 

Regina returned the smile and then leaned in to press her lips to Emma’s, softly and urgently all at the same time. She reached up to cup Emma’s face once more, this time so that she could pull her close, closer, and then even closer, wanting this kiss to erase any doubt Emma was still feeling, wanting it to cement her words in Emma’s brain so that she wouldn’t doubt again. 

 

She chose Emma. She wanted Emma. She  _ loved _ Emma. Even if she hadn’t quite said that last one yet.

 

Regina sighed in relief when Emma’s hand reached up to tangle in her hair, deepening the kiss.

 

The kiss lasted until Henry started crying and Regina realized that she’d definitely forgotten about the bottle she’d been preparing for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...as many of you guessed after the last chapter, this is the point in the story where we cue the angst. Although, this chapter actually ended up being significantly fluffier than it was planned to be in my original outline. That being said, angst has definitely been cued, just the bulk of it ended up being deflected to the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed this nonetheless! :)


	11. Where Do We Go From Here?

Regina had almost forgotten about her mother and she froze momentarily as she entered the kitchen to retrieve Henry’s bottle.

 

Cora was leaning against the counter in the same place Regina had left her. The only sign that she had moved at all was that the kettle was unplugged again and she was sipping on a prepared cup of tea.

 

Regina eyed her without a word as she moved to where she'd left Henry’s bottle on the counter. 

 

“Did you fix things?” Cora asked, her tone almost conversational. 

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed, trying to decide if she should answer at all. “Yes,” she finally said stiffly, offering nothing else. 

 

“Good,” Cora nodded and her tone seemed oddly sincere.

 

Regina eyed her suspiciously, not trusting that her mother was really going to give up so easily. She waited expectantly for her mother to say something else about how she thought that Regina should break up with Emma.

 

No unsolicited advice was offered though. Instead, Cora just seemed almost amused as she asked, “Am I allowed out of time out now?”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow, “I don't know...are you going to behave?”

 

Cora scoffed, “I'm always impeccably behaved, dear.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes but said nothing as Cora followed her back to the living room.

 

xxxxxx 

 

“Henry needs his diaper changed,” Cora announced sometime later, holding the infant away from her body for Regina to take him. 

 

Regina stood from the couch to collect Henry from Cora’s arms. It was only when she took the first few steps towards the stairs that she hesitated, realizing that she was about to leave Emma and her mother alone. It seemed like a terrible idea but she also wasn't really sure how to avoid it. She could ask one of them to come with her but there was no good justification for the request. 

 

Her hesitation must have been quite apparent because when Regina glanced over at Emma, Emma tilted her head curiously, the question in her eyes evident. 

 

Regina shrugged a shoulder. There really was nothing to do but complete the task quickly. She smiled reassuringly at Emma.

 

Emma smiled back and, with a quiet sigh, Regina left her mother and her girlfriend alone. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat after Regina left the room, wondering if she should try and initiate a conversation or if sitting here in silence was an acceptable alternative. She was leaning towards sitting in silence being perfectly fine with her when Cora spoke up. 

 

“I'm sure my daughter would appreciate it if I apologized to you.”

 

Emma eyed Regina’s mother uncertainly, gnawing on her lip and not saying a word.

 

“And I am sorry dear,” Cora said, sounding close to sincere, “you should not have overheard what was meant to be a private conversation.

 

Emma bit her lip harder, clasping her hands tightly in front of her, not sure what she was supposed to say to that. She doubted this was the kind of apology Regina would want her mother to give. Did it even count as an apology if all she was sorry for was that she'd been overheard?

 

Cora must not have expected a response though because she just continued, “You have to understand where I'm coming from, dear. I'm a mother. And now a grandmother. I have to consider what's best for my family. Even when…” she folded her hands in her lap, her posture straightening, “Look, you seem like a perfectly nice young woman. And my daughter is clearly enamored with you. Regina...once she gets attached to someone...she cares too much, too deeply. She's been like that her entire life. Bringing home every injured pigeon and stray dog she could find when she was a child. But caring that way, it blinds Regina. It keeps her from seeing what's truly best for her. And now what's best for Henry…” Cora paused, eyeing Emma seriously, “maybe when she didn't have a baby, she had time to be taking care of someone else. But now…” Cora let the statement hang between them.

 

Emma sat rigidly, her hands clasped even more tightly together, as she watched Cora with barely blinking eyes. She wanted to be angry. She knew that if Regina overheard even half of what Cora had just said she'd probably fly into a blind rage defending Emma. But Emma wasn’t all that angry. The funny thing was, Cora was saying exactly what Emma had thought all along. All Cora was really saying was that  _ Emma with Cancer _ was a burden. A burden that  _ Regina with Baby  _ did not need. And maybe Regina didn't believe that but it didn't necessarily mean it was untrue. “I…” Emma swallowed, “I don't want things to be difficult for Regina.” It was the same thing she'd said to Regina but this time there were no tears with the admission, just something like resignation.

 

Cora nodded, something oddly like admiration flickering across her face, “I knew I liked you.”

 

Emma wasn't sure what to say to that. Despite some level of agreement with Cora, she doubted she was strong enough to do what Cora seemed to be suggesting and actually push Regina away. Not when Regina said things like her life would be more difficult without Emma. Not when Regina was - well,  _ Regina _ . Emma studied Cora carefully, wondering what Regina saw when she looked at her mother. Emma was pretty sure Regina would call this meddling. Regina might say something even worse. But Emma, who had never had a mother, never had someone who cared to meddle, never had someone to love her, saw something different. “You love her, don't you?”

 

Cora looked surprised, her carefully constructed mask slipping just a fraction. “Of course I do, she's my daughter.”

 

Emma nodded and they slipped into silence just as Regina appeared with Henry in her arms.

 

Regina eyed them both suspiciously, as if she might be able to read their minds and sort out what had transpired without her in the room. Uncertainty was written all over her face as she finally asked, “What have you been talking about?”

 

Emma swallowed, looking over at Cora. Cora didn't seem about to say anything, so Emma looked back at Regina, smiling, “We were talking about you...I had no idea you were such a fan of pigeons.”

 

“Seriously mother?” Regina groaned, the suspicion fading from her face as she settled back on the couch beside Emma.

 

Cora chuckled lightly, “telling embarrassing stories about your child to their significant other is a mother's prerogative. You’ll see someday.”

 

xxxxxxx

 

Cora announced her imminent departure sometime after dinner. 

 

Against her better judgement, Regina offered her mother one of the guest rooms to stay the evening but Cora just shook her head and said, “I have no desire to be waken by a crying baby throughout the night. I already did that once.”

 

Regina wasn't about to try and convince her to stay, if anything, it was with relief that she closed the door behind her mother and went back to the living room, where Henry was sound asleep in his swinging chair and Emma was sprawled out on the couch.

 

At the sight of Regina, Emma pushed herself back up into a seated position, making room on the couch for Regina to sit too.

 

Regina smiled as she lowered herself down beside Emma, where she quickly found herself pinned against the armrest of the couch, Emma's lips pressing firmly, insistently, against hers. The kiss was oddly urgent but Regina wasn't complaining, not when Emma shifted against her, their bodies pressing even closer together, one of Emma’s hands resting on her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek with fingers tangling in her hair, Emma’s tongue darting out, pushing into Regina’s mouth. Regina reached up and looped her arms around Emma, her hands splaying across her back, tugging her impossibly closer as the urgency of the kiss only grew.

 

They kissed like that until Emma finally pulled back, breathless and panting hard. She rested her forehead resting against Regina’s, wide green eyes staring directly into brown ones.

 

Regina’s own heart hammered loudly in her chest and she lifted a hand to cup Emma's cheek, her thumb stroking gently along Emma's jaw line. “Okay?” she asked.

 

“Mmhm,” Emma confirmed, making no move to pull back, if anything, her forehead pressing just a little more firmly against Regina’s, her chest still heaving as she tried to catch her breath. 

 

Regina smiled softly, her thumb still stroking along Emma's jaw line. “Are you going to stay tonight?” She only heard how that sounded after she’d said it and her eyes widened. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have sex with Emma. The arousal currently pooled between her legs would suggest quite the opposite. It was that she didn’t want Emma to think that she had any expectations. Emma had cancer, of course, Regina had zero expectations in that regard.  

 

Emma didn’t seem bothered though. She just sighed softly, biting her lip, her eyes sliding closed a moment and when they opened again she mumbled, “Probably not.”

 

Regina couldn’t help the tug of disappointment she felt at that but she pushed it aside, smirking, “Don’t want to be waken by a crying baby either?”

 

Emma laughed, pulling her forehead away from Regina’s, pausing long enough to peck Regina’s lips, and then straightening on the couch. “Don’t you remember? My red blood cell count is in the dumps. I could probably sleep through an earthquake.”

 

Regina chuckled, shaking her head as she followed Emma’s lead and pulled herself into an upright seated position as well, straightening her shirt as she did so and running a hand through her tousled hair to smooth it. “Speaking of…” she started.

 

“Of my red blood cell count?” Emma’s brow crinkled. 

 

“Well, not your red blood cell count exactly. But something cancer related,” Regina clarified.

 

“Oh…” Emma looked suddenly nervous.

 

Regina reached over for Emma’s hand, clasping Emma’s fingers tightly with hers and smiling reassuringly, “I was just thinking about what we should do about your treatment next week.”

 

Emma’s brow crinkled again but she said nothing.         

 

Regina squeezed her hand, “I know Henry isn’t allowed in the chemo suite but I don’t think there would be an issue bringing him to the cancer centre itself, do you? It’s not as if he’s been around any other children, so he shouldn’t be carrying any germs.” She knew that germs were the primary motivation for the no children in the chemo suite rule. 

 

Emma still looked confused but she shrugged a shoulder, “I guess?” She didn’t sound all that certain. 

 

“Okay,” Regina nodded, “then what do you say about me bringing Henry with us to the cancer centre on Wednesday? We wouldn’t be able to go with you into the chemo suite but we could stay with you the rest of the time. Even to see your oncologist…if you wanted.” She added the last part carefully, not wanting Emma to think she was pushing, even though she really wanted to sit it on Emma’s oncologist appointment. She wanted first hand information. Wanted the opportunity to ask questions. And, maybe most importantly, she just didn’t want Emma to have to do anything that might be difficult alone anymore.

 

Emma gnawed her lip, her eyes shifting away from Regina and over to where Henry was sleeping in his swinging chair. “You don’t have to,” she said quietly, “The cancer centre is no place for Henry. I can go myself. I’ll take the bus.”

 

Regina’s eyebrows arched high. Emma seriously thought Regina would be okay with her taking the bus? She squeezed Emma’s hand again, waiting for Emma to look back at her to say seriously, “Under no circumstances will you be taking the bus.” She eyed Emma firmly a long moment, wanting that to really sink in. “And you aren’t going alone. So, if you don’t want me to bring Henry…” she hesitated, not sure how she felt about the option she was about to offer, but offering it nonetheless, “I could find someone to watch him.”      

 

Emma blinked slowly, watching her with almost hesitant green eyes. “No,” she said finally, “bring him.”

 

“Okay,” Regina nodded, smiling.

 

“Okay,” Emma echoed, a small smile tugging at her lips as well. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Wednesday came quickly and before she knew it Regina was picking Emma up to take her to the cancer centre.

 

Emma was oddly quiet on the drive there and Regina reached over and placed a hand on her knee, “Are you okay?”

 

Emma looked over from where she'd been staring out the window, her expression blank, but she shrugged, “I'm fine.”

 

Regina wasn't convinced but she withdrew her hand from Emma's knee and brought it back to the steering wheel. If Emma wanted to talk, she would. Regina wasn't going to push.

 

They rode in silence for a few more minutes before Emma said quietly, “This would have been my last treatment.”

 

Regina’s eyes widened slightly in sudden understanding. Of course. This was the second treatment of Emma's fourth cycle, her eighth treatment in total. If her CT scan results had been different, after today she would have been done. Regina felt like an idiot for not having realized sooner. She looked over at Emma, prepared to say something but Emma spoke first. 

 

“It's okay. You don't have to say anything...it is what it is,” Emma sighed, “I just wish...that it could just be over already. It would be easier for you and Henry that way.”

 

Regina’s brow furrowed. Easier for her and Henry? What was Emma even talking about? What on earth was Emma thinking? “Emma…” she said carefully, struggling for the right words, “you don't have to worry about Henry and I.”

 

Emma frowned, “Why not? You worry about me don't you?”

 

Regina’s brow furrowed deeper, “Of course I do Emma.” She almost added  _ because you have cancer  _ but she caught herself, cognizant enough to know that would be the exact wrong thing to say right now. 

 

“Then why can't I worry about you and Henry?” Emma shot back stubbornly.

 

Regina sighed. Were they really about to have an argument about who was allowed to worry about who? The whole thing was ridiculous. “That's not what I meant and you know it,” Regina shook her head, “All I was trying to say is that whether you have one or five chemo treatments left has a much bigger effect on you than it does Henry and I. You should think of yourself first.”

 

Emma sighed too, her shoulders slumping forward, hunching into herself, “I'm sorry...I'm just...off today. I think I'm just getting tired of this.”

 

Regina could only assume that  _ this  _ was cancer. At least she hoped that  _ this _ wasn’t something else. She swallowed that thought down, reaching over to place a hand on Emma's knee again, squeezing gently. “Don’t be sorry. You've done nothing you need to apologize for. If anything, you've just reminded me how lucky I am to have someone who cares about me and my son so much.”

 

Emma's lips twitched into a small smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

 

They rode the rest of the way to the cancer centre in silence.

 

xxxxxx

A baby in a stroller turned out to be quite the distraction. Everyone in the hematology clinic waiting room seemed to want to come say hello. Perhaps her time as a volunteer here had softened Regina to the curiosity of elderly cancer patients and their loved ones, or perhaps curiosity related to her son was simply less aggravating than curiosity related to herself, either way she found that she wasn't all that bothered about everyone fawning over Henry. It certainly made the time spent in the waiting room fly by if nothing else.

 

It sort of felt like they'd just sat down when Emma's name was called and they were standing up and heading over to nurse holding Emma's chart. 

 

Emma handed over the printout with her symptom assessment - Regina had had to resist the urge to debate some of the choices Emma was making when she'd filled it out on the computer earlier. It seemed to Regina that Emma was downplaying how awful she actually felt. Not that that was all so surprising, she supposed. 

 

Emma followed the nurse to the scale, setting down her bag and her coat and stepping onto the scale.

 

Emma didn't even look at the number that flashed on the display screen but Regina did and it made her frown. She'd certainly noticed that Emma seemed gaunter lately compared to when they'd first met but, still, there was something shocking about the much too low weight displayed there. She really needed to figure out some things that Emma might actually like to eat.

 

“You're up a little from last time,” the nurse smiled encouragingly at Emma.

 

_ Wait _ . Regina frowned further. This was Emma's weight after she'd  _ gained _ some?

 

Emma eyed Regina curiously a moment, confusion and concern at Regina’s expression evident but after a beat she turned her eyes back to the nurse,  smirking as she joked, “It's because Regina keeps force feeding me pasta.”

 

The nurse laughed, “Good.”

 

Regina shook her head, but her frown eased.

 

xxxxxx

 

In the exam room they were brought to, Regina took Henry out of the stroller so that she could feed him with one of the bottles that she'd packed. He had just finished eating when the door swung open and a dark haired nurse stepped into the room.

 

The nurse seemed confused at the sight of Regina and Henry and she shot a curious look in Emma's direction as she greeted, “Hi Emma.”

 

“Hey,” Emma smiled at the nurse and then motioned with her hand to Regina in the chair beside, “This is my girlfriend, Regina. And her son, Henry.” She glanced at Regina and added, “Regina this is Belle.”

 

Belle looked a mixture of surprised and pleased, as she addressed Regina, “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Likewise,” Regina nodded. 

 

Belle rolled a stool over, sitting in front of them with Emma's chart on her lap. “How have you been feeling?” she asked Emma, studying her carefully.

 

Emma shrugged, “Fine.”

 

Based on the expression on Belle’s face, Regina guessed that this was Emma's standard answer. Based on the expression on Belle’s face, Regina also guessed that she didn't tend to accept that first answer. 

 

“Oh really,” Belle said with a raised eyebrow, “Nausea has been okay?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“No other symptoms bothering you? Anything that's gotten worse than it was before?” Belle still prodded. 

 

Emma shrugged, “No. I'm good.”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow, “What about the dizziness? It's definitely worse.” 

 

Belle looked curiously over at Regina and then back at Emma, “Dizziness?” 

 

The way Belle said it made Regina think that maybe Emma hadn't actually told her about it before, not as explicitly as Regina had assumed she had at least. She wondered if Emma would be angry with her for bringing it up - not that she really cared, she would take Emma's anger if it meant Emma's medical team was informed of what Regina considered a serious problem. 

 

Emma looked over at Regina but she didn’t seem upset, more surprised that Regina had spoken up. She shrugged, shifting in her seat almost uncomfortably, as she looked back over at Belle. “It's not that bad.”

 

Belle had that same look on her face again, the one that said she didn't really believe Emma. 

 

Regina shook her head. She supposed that she shouldn't be that surprised - this was exactly how Emma had been the night she'd brought her to the emergency room. “She sways nearly every time she stands up,” Regina supplied, since Emma clearly wasn't going to emphasize the severity of the issue.

 

Belle looked genuinely surprised at that, “That's quite a lot. Dizzy  _ how _ exactly Emma?”

 

Emma shrugged, looking sort of displeased now, as she grumbled, “I dunno. Sometimes my vision goes black. Sometimes the room just spins. It depends. You said low red blood cell count could cause it.”

 

“I did,” Belle said carefully, “But you also said it wasn't that severe or that often, which isn't sounding completely true.”

 

Emma sighed but she didn't say anything.

 

Belle glanced down at the chart in her lap, “Your red blood cell count has dropped a bit more, and that could definitely be a contributing factor. Although given the severity, it might not be the only cause. Have you been drinking enough water?”

 

Emma eyes darted over to look at Regina, “Regina is basically the water police…”

 

At the same time Regina said, “She doesn't drink enough.” It was true. Both post-chemo Saturday’s that Regina had been with Emma, Emma hadn't had more than a glass of water and that was  _ after _ Regina had insisted. Even on days that Emma deemed good, Regina didn't think she was really consuming enough liquid.

 

Emma groaned, “See what I mean?”

 

“I do,” Belle’s lips tugged into a smile, clearly amused, “And I think it's good that  _ someone  _ is looking out for your well being.” She got more serious as she added, “You really need to try and drink more. Please.”

 

“Fine,” Emma conceded with a sigh.

 

Henry, who'd been quiet up until that point, gurgled from where he was lying in Regina’s arms.

 

Belle chuckled, “It seems as if he approves.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma's oncologist came in after Belle left and Regina rather liked him. He was kind and professionally and certainly significantly better than that creep Dr. Whale from the Storybrooke ER. 

 

The visit with him didn't last long. He gave Emma a quick exam, asked some of the same questions Belle had, handed over new appointment requisitions and a prescription for Emma's growth factor shot, and just like that they were putting Henry back in his stroller and heading out of the hematology clinic.

 

“Why don't I take your prescription to the pharmacy and you go get checked in for chemo and then we can go have lunch?” Regina suggested.

 

“Sure,” Emma agreed easily, handing over the prescription sheet and heading down the long hall towards the chemo suite. 

 

xxxxxx

 

ID bracelet fastened around her wrist and plastic number in hand, Emma turned to head back out of the chemo suite but someone calling her name stopped her. She froze, turning towards the source of the sound and instantly relaxing as she realized who it was.

 

“Hey Barbara,” Emma smiled as she approached the hat table.

 

“Hello Emma,” Barbara returned the greeting, “How are you dear?”

 

Emma shrugged, “Alright. Yourself?”

 

“I’m well,” Barbara smiled, “I was just wondering...I haven’t seen Regina in quite a few weeks. Do you know if…” she didn’t quite finish the question but the concern on her face was evident.

 

Emma smiled. She knew that Regina liked Barbara and it was sweet that the older volunteer cared enough to ask where she was. “Actually,” Emma said, “she’s here today.”

 

Barbara looked surprised, “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. She considered explaining about Henry but then had a better idea, “Can you take a quick break? She’s just waiting outside. I’m sure she’d like to say hi.”

 

Barbara glanced over at her volunteer partner, an older gentleman that Emma didn’t recognize, “I’m just going to take a few minutes, Larry, okay?”

 

The older gentleman nodded and Emma led the way out to where Regina was waiting with Henry.

 

“Oh my goodness,” Barbara’s eyes widened in surprised delight as she noticed the stroller Regina was leaning against and she quickly closed the remaining distance. 

 

Emma followed more slowly, hands in her pockets, but couldn’t help but smile at Barbara’s reaction and at the way Regina beamed when Barbara said, “He’s perfect, Regina. I’m so happy for you.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Sometime after they’d had lunch and Emma had headed back into the chemo suite, Regina sat with Henry resting on her lap in a bank of vacant chairs not too far away from the entrance to the chemo suite. She held both of his hands, moving his arms gently as she talked to him in a quiet voice. He seemed to like the sound of her voice because everytime she spoke his eyes widened, tracking side to side as if following the sound of it. It made Regina’s heart flutter happily. He should be old enough to smile soon and Regina couldn’t wait for that to happen. 

 

“You’re being such a good boy, yes you are,” she cooed at him. It was true, he’d only really had one bout of excessive crying since they’d arrived. Yet, Regina couldn’t help but feel that today wasn’t really a success. She was glad she’d gotten to sit in on Emma’s oncologist appointment but it felt wrong to be sitting out here now while Emma sat somewhere else, all by herself with harsh chemicals dripping into her system. Regina might not like the idea of leaving Henry with someone else but she was already resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to find a babysitter before Emma’s next treatment. She supposed it was probably a good thing - after all, she would need to return to work soon and finding a daycare provider would have to be on her to do list, regardless. 

 

Regina was so deep in thought that she didn’t see the person approaching until she was right in front of her, casting a shadow. Regina looked up, smiling immediately as she realized it was Barbara again, “Hello again.”

 

“Hello,” Barbara smiled back, “My shift just ended and I thought I’d come see if you wanted to go check on Emma. I could sit with Henry for a while.”

 

Regina had quite literally never left Henry out of her sight with anyone but Emma before. But after months of working volunteer shifts with Barbara, after seeing the woman’s kindness first hand, she knew Barbara would take good care of her son. It made it very easy to accept the offer. She smiled gratefully, “That would be great. If you really don’t mind.”

 

Barbara waved that off with hand, “Of course I don’t mind. I love babies. And I really think your friend could use someone in there with her...although she isn’t quite your  _ friend  _ anymore, is she?” Barbara’s eyes twinkled in knowing amusement.

 

Regina couldn’t help the blush that flushed her cheeks, “No she isn’t.”

 

“Good for you dear,” Barbara smiled, sounding incredibly sincere.

 

Regina was unable to contain a pleased smile. She wasn’t really sure why, but for some reason knowing that Barbara approved, made her feel good. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina walked into the chemo suite, looking around for Emma, spotting her in one of the recliners along the back wall, she quickly approached. Barbara hadn’t been wrong. Emma looked worse than usual, somehow paler and greyer, looking small as she shivered under the one thin blanket covering her. Her eyes were unfocused, staring far off into nothingness, clearly lost in thought, and Emma didn’t see Regina until she was quite literally right in front of her and then she startled, her entire body jerking, her eyes widening in alarm, “Where’s Henry?”

 

It would have been a funny reaction if Emma didn’t look so unwell. “Barbara’s sitting with him,” Regina explained.

 

“Oh,” Emma said, her mouth opening and closing, as if she might want to say something else, but she never did.

 

Regina studied the IV pump a moment, noting that they were on Emma’s last drug but that the bag of Dacarbazine was still mostly full. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Emma shiver again and she turned her attention back to her, reaching over to rub her arm gently. “I’m going to go get you another blanket,” she didn’t wait for an answer, just leaned over and kissed Emma’s temple and then slipped away to go grab one of the blankets from the warmer. She didn’t understand why no one had brought Emma another blanket yet. Emma was so obviously cold. It angered Regina. Made her want to demand that these nurses pay better attention to Emma. Even if, at the same time, she knew she was being unrealistic. This was a busy place, if a patient needed something, they would have to ask for it -  and Regina knew Emma enough to know that she would never ask for anything.  

 

Regina returned quickly with the blanket, spreading it over Emma and then using her hands to rub Emma’s arms, hoping that that would help spread the warmth from the blanket more quickly, help it permeate into Emma’s skin.

 

Emma sighed in content, her eyes slipping closed a moment, as Regina continued to rub her arms. 

 

When green eyes blinked back open, Regina stilled the motion of her hands, quirking an eyebrow carefully and asking, “Better?”

 

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded.

 

Regina smiled and then took the seat in the chair someone had left beside Emma’s recliner.  

 

Emma’s brow crinkled, “Don’t you have to get back to Henry?”

 

“He’ll be okay with Barbara for a while longer,” Regina shook her head.

 

It looked like Emma might protest but after a moment she relaxed, shuffling just a little further down in the recliner, saying nothing, and letting Regina lace their fingers together. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Winter yielded to a slightly early spring in the week following that chemo treatment. It was warm enough that in the second week of March, on one of Emma’s good days - or perhaps  _ better _ days was a better descriptor, since Emma wasn’t really sure she had any days that were truly _ good _ anymore - they decided to walk to Granny’s instead of drive.

 

It should have been an easy decision. The sun was shining. Henry seemed to love being pushed in his stroller. And Granny’s wasn’t all that far. But Regina had instigated a solid fifteen minute debate about whether or not it was a good idea for Emma to walk there. 

Emma hated it. She hated that they had the debate at all. But, more than that, she hated that Regina was right to be concerned. Even on what was supposed to be a  _ good _ day there was a pretty solid cap on how far Emma could walk. Granny’s was within the acceptable walking distance but, even then, Emma was quickly becoming winded as they strolled down the street. 

 

“Would you mind taking over pushing the stroller for me?” Regina suggested when they were about halfway to Granny’s. 

 

Emma pretended that she didn’t see what Regina was doing. Pretended that she didn’t know that Regina wanted her to push the stroller so that she would have something to lean against. Pretended that it didn’t actually make it easier for her to walk. The fact that she couldn’t walk four city blocks anymore without needing to slow down to a snail’s pace and use a baby’s stroller to help support her weight, made her feel pretty useless. It certainly detracted from the wonderful feeling of the sun on her face. It certainly detracted from what was supposed to be a nice outing with her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s son.  

 

As they continued to walk, Emma couldn’t help but think about the conversation she’d had with Cora two weeks previous. She was pretty sure that Cora was probably currently very disappointed that Emma hadn’t broken up with Regina yet. It had been clear that Cora had thought she’d gotten through to Emma. And she actually had. Her words had fueled Emma’s guilt - like dumping gasoline on an already burning pile of logs. It was guilt that rippled through Emma’s belly constantly whenever she watched Regina with Henry. Regina and Henry who deserved so much more than she was currently giving them. 

 

Emma wanted to be strong enough to do the right thing. Strong enough to stop distracting Regina from caring for Henry in favour of caring for her. Strong enough to stop making things  _ difficult _ . But she’d finally conceded that she just wasn’t. She was much too attached. And much too tired. She just couldn’t do it. Even being absolutely terrified that Regina was going to wake up one day and realize that things actually  _ wouldn’t  _ be more difficult without Emma and be the one to leave wasn’t enough motivation. Emma just couldn’t bring herself to withdraw. So, instead, she was just guilty. And terrified. And tired. So, so tired. Constantly.  

 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Regina interrupted her thoughts.

 

Emma blinked slowly, looking over at Regina. “Nothing,” she said carefully.

 

Regina looked unconvinced, her lips pursed and lines etched into her forehead, but, maybe because they were coming up on Granny’s, she didn’t push, just sighed softly and held the door open so that Emma could push the stroller through. 

 

xxxxxx

 

They settled into a booth in the corner, so that they could leave Henry in the stroller without blocking foot traffic. 

 

Granny herself came over to take their orders. Or, that’s why Emma thought she was coming over - she realized her mistake when the diner owner got closer and she saw the item in her hands.

 

Granny held the white knit blanket with the green ribbon trim and Henry’s name embroidered on the side out for Regina to take, “I was hoping you would be in today. I made this for the little tyke.”

 

Regina looked genuinely startled, as if she couldn’t understand at all why Granny would give something to her for Henry, let alone something homemade that cleary had taken a great deal of effort to make. Her expression still giving away her surprise, she said, “Thank you, Eugenia. That was…” she swallowed, “unnecessary but very much appreciated.” Regina stroked the blanket with one hand, adding, “It’s really beautiful.”

 

Granny smiled in the same gruff way she always did, but her eyes twinkled fondly the way they did when she smiled at Ruby. “It wasn’t no big deal. Just thought the arrival of your first child should be treated as the special thing it is.” She shrugged in a way that didn’t invite further conversation, adding, “I’ll send Ruby over to get your orders,” before leaving their table and heading back for the kitchen. 

 

Regina was still looking a little stunned and Emma smiled in amusement, “Pretty sure Granny is your number one fan…”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow at that.

 

“Well, number three. After me. And Henry,” Emma amended with another smile.

 

Regina shook her head, “She was just being polite.”

 

“No way,” Emma scoffed, “if you’re being polite you say congratulations.  _ Maybe _ pick up something cheap from a crappy department store. You don’t knit super complicated to make looking blankets.”

 

Regina bit her lip, a blush creeping up her neck, as she seemed at a loss of what to say. “You really think so?” she finally mumbled, in a very much not Regina way.

 

Emma thought Regina’s bafflement that someone from the town she was the mayor of might like her was pretty adorable. “Yes,” she nodded, “I’m pretty freaking sure. Did you know that she was the one who told me you liked root beer?” 

 

“Huh…” Regina said, in the way that was clear she was really contemplating that, wondering what it meant.

 

Emma chuckled lightly, shaking her head at Regina, “Seriously. Is it so hard to believe that someone might think you’re great and want to do something nice for you? Like. You’re the greatest person I know. Obviously other people, like Granny, are going to notice your greatest on occasion too.”  

 

Emma thought Regina might say something sarcastic in response but Regina just blushed again, smiling a smile that seemed to light up her whole face, “Well...I’m glad you think so.”     

 

Emma might be guilty and terrified a lot of the time. But seeing Regina smile like that because of something  _ she’d _ said - it felt pretty damn good. It made the guilt almost an afterthought. It made it impossible to imagine ever trying to break up with her. 

 

Yes, Emma was sure that Cora would be disappointed. 

 

xxxxxx

 

The night before Emma’s next chemo treatment, Henry would not stop crying. Nothing Regina did would settle him down and by five in the morning she was nearly on the verge of tears and convinced that something must horribly wrong with him.

 

“Okay, okay, okay,” she bounced Henry, the desperation in her voice clear, “It’s okay. We’re going to go to the hospital. We’ll figure out what’s wrong. You’re going to be okay.”  

 

As Regina got Henry ready to take him to the hospital she debated if she should call Emma. She was terrified and desperately wished that Emma were here right now. Emma would make this situation feel more manageable. Emma would make this better for sure. But it was five in the morning on a chemo day and Emma would be able to do very little from Boston. Even if Emma, who needed at least ten hours of sleep a night, could get herself to Storybrooke safely, Regina could very well be done at the hospital by the time she arrived. 

 

It just didn’t make any sense to wake her. 

 

xxxxxx

 

It took two hours in the emergency room for them to determine that the problem was an ear infection. They were two of the worst hours of Regina’s life. She was a wreck.

 

Even though the ER doctor assured her that nothing she had done had caused this and that Henry would be absolutely fine, Regina couldn’t help how awful she felt about the whole thing. 

 

As she drove home from the hospital, she kept replaying the evening in her head, over and over again. Why hadn’t she just taken him to the hospital sooner? How could she not have realized he was sick right from the beginning? She’d let her poor baby suffer for hours.

 

It was shortly after seven when she pulled into the driveway of their home. She got out of the car and moved around to grab Henry from the back. The medicine they’d given him at the hospital had finally settled him down and he was sound asleep now. “Mommy’s sorry,” Regina murmured rubbing his belly gently, just watching the steady rise and fall of his chest for several minutes before she removed his car seat from its base and brought him inside.

 

She settled Henry into his swinging chair and then debated what to do next. She’d planned to leave him with a woman who ran a local home daycare today, a trial run of sorts for when she went back to work. Emma had tried to talk her out of it but Regina had been insistent. She couldn’t take him there now though. Daycares had rules about keeping sick kids home. And that was assuming she would be able to stomach leaving him, which she definitely could not. She wouldn’t have him sick and in pain and then wondering where she was on top of that. That option was definitely off the table. She also couldn’t bring him to the cancer centre. First of all she didn’t want him getting worse. Second of all, she wasn’t about to bring his germs to a building full of people vulnerable to infection. It was with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she came to the only conclusion that she knew she could - she wouldn’t be able to bring Emma to chemo today. 

 

Remembering last week’s treatment, Emma shivering in that recliner looking so small and alone, it didn’t take her long to come to a second conclusion either - she didn’t want Emma going there alone today. She considered her options for a moment before she decided that she was just going to have to call in a favour.

 

Pulling out her cell phone, Regina checked the time. It was still too early to call Emma and let her know what was going on. She would wait until just before nine, when she was sure Emma would be awake and getting ready for her appointment, to make that call. For a moment she wondered what Emma would think but just as quickly she shook her head at herself. Emma was constantly telling her to put Henry first, of course she would understand this.

 

Settling herself on the couch, she dialed the other number she needed to call. The phone rang twice before the person on the other end picked up. “Kathryn, hi,” Regina said and not wasting any time she added, “I need a favour…”

 

She explained the situation and was relieved when Kathryn agreed without so much as a pause to head to Boston to take Emma to the cancer centre for her treatment. 

 

“Thank you Kathryn,” Regina sighed softly, adding, “you’re a lifesaver.”

It was still only quarter to eight when Regina hung up the phone. Still too early to call Emma. She yawned, adjusting her position on the couch, lying down with her head resting on one of the couch cushions. 

 

She hadn’t slept all night. She was exhausted. She would just close her eyes for a few minutes.

 

xxxxxxx

 

Emma slept until she absolutely couldn’t sleep any longer and then rushed through her morning routine, brushing her teeth, and packing her medication. She was just finishing up when the knock came on the door. She frowned. Regina didn’t usually come up and a glance at the clock told Emma that she wasn’t early, which was the only reason she could really think of why Regina might come up. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she pulled the apartment door open, the frown returning. This wasn’t Regina. It was a tall woman with long blonde hair. Was this lady selling things door to door?

 

“Hi,” the woman greeted with a friendly smile, holding her hand out to shake, “you must be Emma. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

Emma’s frown returned, her eyes widening in complete bafflement. Was she supposed to know who this was?

 

The woman frowned too, clearly surprised that Emma didn’t know who she was. “I’m Kathryn,” she said hesitantly, “Regina’s friend.”

 

Emma’s heart was suddenly hammering loudly in her chest. Had something happened to Regina? With dread settling in her stomach she asked, “Is she okay?” 

 

Kathryn’s frowned deepened, “She didn’t call you?”

 

Regina was supposed to call her? What did that mean? Did it mean that nothing had happened to her?  _ Oh no _ . Emma’s heart hammered louder. Was it Henry? Had something happened to him? Emma felt like she was going to be sick. “N-no,” she stuttered out.

 

“Oh. Umm...I guess she forgot?” Kathryn was clearly confused. She scratched the top of her head, explaining, “Henry is sick. An ear infection. Regina asked me to come bring you to your appointment.”

 

An uncomfortable weight settled in Emma’s stomach like a stone, the possibility that she was going to be sick still seeming very likely. “I-is he okay?” the words nearly stuck in her throat. Why hadn’t Regina called her?

 

Kathryn’s head bobbed rapidly in reassurance, “yes, yes, he’s fine. Like I said, it’s an ear infection. Not a huge deal. They gave him some medication in the ER and sent him home.”

 

Regina had taken Henry to the ER? Why hadn’t Regina called her? The same thought repeated in Emma’s head. Henry was okay. Regina was okay. That’s what mattered, she reminded herself. But why hadn’t Regina called her? Knots in her stomach tightened as she just stared at Kathryn, not sure what to say now.

 

Kathryn looked like she was struggling just as much to find something to say but she was the one to break the silence, “Are you okay with me taking you to the cancer centre?”

 

Emma shrugged, answering in monotone, “I guess.” What other choice did she have?

 

xxxxxx

 

The drive to the cancer centre was quiet. 

 

Kathryn seemed to know better than to try and initiate conversation and instead she just turned the radio on.

 

When they neared cancer centre, Emma finally broke the silence, “Could just pull up to the front door and drop me off, please?

 

“Okay,” Kathryn said carefully, “then I’ll just park and meet you inside?”

 

“You don’t have to come in with me,” Emma answered, her foot tapping against the floorboard. 

 

Kathryn drew in a careful breath, her eyes darting over to Emma again, “Regina...she said I should come in with you. She didn’t want you to be alone.”

 

“I don’t care what Regina said. You don’t need to waste your day at the cancer centre. I’ll be fine.” It came out harsher than Emma intended and she bit her lip.

 

“Okay,” Kathryn conceded with a sigh after a long moment of silence. She added evenly, “but I’ll give you my number so you can call me when you’re done. I’ll bring you back home.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Emma said, managing to sound not quite as harsh that time.

 

“Regina would kill me if I let you find your own way home,” Kathryn shook her head, “she’s going to be mad enough that I’m not going in with you.”

 

Emma’s foot was tapping even quicker against the floorboard now, her insides twisting painful. “Well then maybe she should have called me,” she said flatly. 

 

Kathryn didn’t argue with that..

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina slept soundly on the couch until Henry’s crying woke her. She startled, shooting up, as she tried to get her bearings. It took her a moment to remember why she was on the couch and by the time she did she was already moving towards Henry, scooping him out of his swinging chair and cradling him to her chest.

 

What time was it? She wondered as she carried him into the kitchen. The medicine must have made Henry sleep longer than he usually would because her eyes widened in alarm as soon as she saw the clock in the kitchen. 

 

It was almost noon. 

 

Emma. She hadn’t called Emma. 

 

Regina felt ill at the thought, her stomach twisting in knots. 

 

She quickly prepared Henry’s bottle and brought him back into the living room. She managed to fed him with one hand, checking her phone with the other.

 

Four missed calls. Two voicemails. All from Kathryn.

 

Emma hadn’t texted or tried to call at all. That felt ominous and Regina’s stomach twisted painfully again.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina finished feeding Henry, gave him the next dose of the medicine she’d gotten at the ER for him, and re-settled him into his swinging chair. 

 

She didn’t bother checking the voice mails, instead she just dialed Kathryn’s number.

 

The phone rang twice and then Kathryn was practically shouting into the phone, “What the fuck Regina?”

 

Regina’s posture went rigid and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “How bad?” she asked quietly.

 

“How bad is it that you forgot to tell your girlfriend that a stranger was coming to pick her up to take her to the cancer centre? Pretty fucking bad,” Kathryn shot back, not mincing her words.

 

“I didn’t forget. I was waiting until I knew she’d be awake to call but I feel asleep,” Regina snapped defensively. 

 

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the fact that I showed up at her door when she was expecting you,” Kathryn’s voice wasn’t quite so harsh now. 

 

Regina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose again, “How is she?”

 

“Not great. At first she thought something had happened to you. And then when I explained what was actually going on she just got pale and quiet. Barely said two more words. She seemed hurt more than anything,” Kathryn explained. 

 

The knots in Regina’s stomach coiled tighter. This was what she’d been expecting but she hated knowing that she’d hurt Emma. “How’s the treatment going?” she asked, hoping that Emma was, at least, feeling alright. 

 

There was quiet from the other end of the phone for several long beats before Kathryn admitted, “She didn’t want me to go in with her.”

 

“You didn’t go in?!” Regina hissed, irritation immediately invading her brain. She’d thought she’d been pretty clear that she didn’t want Emma to spend the day alone.

 

“No, I didn’t go in,” Kathryn hissed right back and Regina could picture her rolling her eyes, “She was pretty insistent that she didn’t want me to come in. I’m a stranger to her, Regina. I wasn’t just going to follow her around. I’m not some kind of stalker.” 

 

Regina sighed. She knew Kathryn was right. She just hated that Emma was alone in the cancer centre  _ again _ . “You  _ are _ bringing her home after the treatment, correct?”

 

“Yes, Regina, of course I am,” Kathryn was clearly irritated but there was a hint of softness in her voice. 

 

Neither of them said anything for several long moments. It was Regina who finally broke the silence, her voice quiet, more vulnerable than she wanted it to be, “How do I fix this Kathryn?”

 

“Apologize. Grovel if you have to,” was Kathryn’s suggestion. After a beat she added, more softly, “She clearly cares about you, Regina. The worry was written all of her face when she realized who I was. You don’t look like that unless you care about someone, a lot. I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

 

“Hopefully,” Regina sighed, running a hand through her hair and adding, “Will you let me know once you’ve dropped her off at home?”

 

“Sure,” Kathryn agreed.

 

“Thanks again for helping me out today,” Regina said then.

 

“Anytime,” Kathryn fluffed off the thanks like it was no big deal. “I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Alright. Goodbye,” Regina said, hanging up the phone and setting it down on the couch beside her. 

 

She looked over at Henry in his swinging chair, the baby’s eyes seeming to be staring directly at her, “What am I going to do Henry?”

 

Henry just blinked at her.

 

What she really wanted to do was head to Boston. Be there waiting when Emma’s treatment was done. But that wasn’t a realistic option. She still didn’t want to take Henry out of the house. And, even more so, she knew it wasn’t a good idea for Henry to be around Emma right now. Emma had a vulnerable immune system and she needed to be protected. Until Henry had a few days of antibiotics in him, it was better to keep the two apart.  

 

Regina sighed heavily and picked her cell phone back up. She didn’t want to try and call Emma while she was inside the cancer centre but she typed out a quick message.

 

_ I am so sorry for not calling about Kathryn. I hope your treatment is going as well as can be expected. xo _

She never received a response.

 

xxxxxx

 

After thanking Kathryn and waving goodbye to the woman, Emma entered her apartment building. She climbed the stairs slowly. Those three flights had never been more difficult to manage and even though she took them impossibly slow, she was still panting harder than usual by the time she was pushing open the door to her apartment.

 

She put the small cooler bag with the Neulasta shot in it into the fridge and then she moved over to the living room, dropping her shoulder bag somewhere nearby, and flopping down onto the couch, reaching for a blanket and pulling it up and over herself. Maybe if she took a nap she could forget all about today. And oh how she wanted to forget.

 

Of course, that wasn’t how things worked, and her phone started ringing at that exact moment. 

 

She had a pretty good inkling who it was. There was really only one person who called her. Maybe she could just not answer. She wasn’t sure she was ready to have the conversation yet. She wasn’t sure she had the energy it would require - actually, she knew for sure that she didn’t. 

 

The phone stopped ringing and for a half a second she thought the decision had been made for her and then it started ringing again. She sighed and reached for the bag on the floor, shuffling through it to find her phone. Sure enough, as she’d expected, Regina’s name flashed on the display screen. With a heavy sigh, she accepted the phone call, bringing the phone to her ear and offering a quiet, “Hi.”

 

“Emma,” Regina breathed out what sounded like a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone, “How are you?”

 

“Fine,” Emma said in monotone, sitting up on the couch and drawing her knees to her chest, as she asked, “How’s Henry?”

 

“Better,” Regina answered, “the medicine seems to be helping.”

 

“Good,” Emma nodded even though Regina couldn’t see her. She  _ was _ glad, she hated the thought of Henry sick. She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t want to say anything else, her stomach rolling uncomfortably, nausea from the chemo treatment only making the knots that had been there all day worse. 

 

“Emma,” Regina said her name again, so softly, so gently, “I’m so sorry about not calling. I meant to. I really did. I swear. I just fell asleep.”

 

Emma stiffened as she listened to the apologize. She didn’t say anything when Regina finished speaking.  

 

“Emma?” Regina sounded concerned by her lack of response.

 

Emma still said nothing for a long beat, and then she asked stiffly, “When were you going to call?”  

Emma could practically see the frown on Regina’s face as she answered in a tone filled with uncertainty, “Around nine. Once you were awake.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Emma sighed. She was such an idiot. She should have just listened to Cora. Should have given in to the guilt. She should have just listened to the voice in the back of her head that told her Regina would hurt her in the long run. Should have given in to the terror. Maybe then she could have avoided the crushing weight that seemed to be pressing on her chest right now.

 

“Emma? What do you mean?” 

 

Regina was clearly so very confused and that only frustrated Emma more. How could Regina not see? “When did you decide to take Henry to the hospital?” Emma asked.

 

There was a long pause, followed by a hesitant, “Five.”

 

“Why didn’t you call me  _ then _ ?” Emma asked, it taking all of her effort to keep her voice even.

 

“It was  _ five _ . You were  _ asleep _ . And in  _ Boston _ ,” Regina sounded defensive now.

 

“So?” Emma offered in reply, her tone still even, not matching Regina’s defensiveness. 

 

“Emma, come on,” Regina’s voice was still just as defensive, “What was I supposed to do? Wake you up when you need to get your sleep? And to do what exactly? Make you worry?  It wasn’t as if you could have come to Storybrooke anyway.”

 

The weight pushing on Emma’s chest increased, her stomach rolling almost as badly as it did on the worst post-chemo days. Regina really didn’t get it. Like  _ really  _ didn’t get it. “So what,” she was angry now and her tone showed it, “You keep saying that I’m not some burden. You keep saying that things would be more difficult without me. You keep saying all the right things. But then you….” she shook her head, starting again, “Something was wrong with Henry. Something was wrong enough with Henry that you took him to a hospital. And you didn’t fucking call me. You…” Emma swallowed thickly, the volume of her voice lowering, her next words more hurt than angry, really, “You didn’t call.”

 

There was silence on the other end of the phone, the only sounds Regina’s breathing, which seemed uneven and shaky. “Emma…” she finally said, and it was a plea, although for what, Emma wasn’t sure. 

 

Emma’s stomach twisted painfully and she she drew her knees tighter to her chest, her entire body shaking. “No,” she said, her voice flat and even again now.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Regina said and she did sound sorry, her voice pained. 

 

“No,” Emma repeated, her words still flat, “I can’t do this right now. I….I have to go.”

 

“Emma don’t - “ Regina started.

 

Emma hung up the phone, cutting her off. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Emma shouted as the weight pressed hard on her chest, almost crippling now. The phone in her hand started ringing again and she hurled it across the room where it landed with a heavy thud and cracking sound and then was suddenly silent. She was probably going to regret that later but right now she couldn’t think of anything else but the conversation she’d just had.

 

How could she be so stupid? How could she have not run when she had the chance? This was her fault, she knew it. She hadn’t done a very good job protecting herself from this outcome. She was such an idiot.  _ Emma before Cancer _ wouldn’t have let herself get so attached.  _ Emma before Cancer  _ was smarter.  _ Emma before Cancer _ would have reacted much differently to the guilt and the terror.  _ Emma before Cancer  _ would have run without so much as a look back. 

 

She could feel the tears building up in her eyes and that only made her angrier. Stupid tears. They were stupid chemo’s fault. At least, that’s what she was going to blame.  _ Emma before Cancer  _ wouldn’t have cried over this.  _ Emma before Cance _ r was strong. Those stupid drugs coursing through her veins messed with her emotions so freaking much. It was awful. She refused to acknowledge the possibility that these tears weren’t the drugs’ fault.   

 

The tears were now sliding down her cheeks heavy and hot and fast and she shuffled down the couch, curling up into a tight ball, pulling the blanket up and almost completely over her head. 

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina tried to call Emma six more times that night. When her sixth phone call still wasn’t picked up, with a resigned sigh, she left a voicemail message.

 

“Emma I’m so sorry. I screwed up. I know. You clearly want some space right now and I’m going to respect that. Please call me when you’re ready to talk. I...I really am sorry.” 

 

She barely slept that night.

 

xxxxxx

 

After forty eight hours of waiting for Emma to call, Regina couldn’t take it anymore. 

 

Friday night after a dinner that she mostly just pushed around her plate, she finally caved, grabbing her phone and dialing Emma’s number.

 

There was no answer. 

 

Her stomach twisted tightly in knots.

 

Was Emma  _ ever  _ going to talk to her?

 

xxxxxx

 

Once again, Regina barely slept. Tossing and turning and replaying everything over and over again in her mind. 

 

By the time she’d given up trying to sleep Saturday morning, she’d made a decision - she was going to Boston.

 

After all, it was a post-chemo Saturday, and she’d promised herself that Emma wouldn’t ever be alone on one of those days again. She wasn’t about to let a little thing like Emma not talking to her make her break a promise - even if it was just a promise to herself.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina climbed the three flights of stairs to Emma’s apartment and set Henry’s carrier down on the ground so that she could knock on the door. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest while she waited for an answer. She was nervous. More nervous than she wanted to admit to herself.

 

She frowned when Emma hadn’t come to the door after several minutes. She knocked again and waited once more. There was still no answer and her heart hammered even louder in her chest, now in worry. She tried the door handle and for once breathed a sigh of relief that it was unlocked. 

 

She brought Henry’s carrier into the apartment, setting it down in the living room and then heading to the bedroom where she assumed she would find Emma. The bed was oddly empty though and that only increased her worry. Was Emma not here? Where was she?

 

“Emma,” she called loudly, hoping for an answer but not getting one.

 

There was only one room left to check and she carefully approached the bathroom, knocking on the door, and calling, “Emma,” again. There was no answer, so she pushed the door open. At the sight she was greeted with adrenaline and terror coursed through her body.

 

Emma was curled in a ball on the floor. Naked. And pale. So, so pale. 

 

Had she fallen? Was she dead? _ Oh god, oh god, oh god _ , Regina thought, her heart hammering loudly, the sound of it beating reverberating in her ears, as she rushed forward. “Emma!” She called loudly as she crouched down in front of the prone form, “Emma?” 

 

Regina was reaching forward, prepared to shake a shoulder, to feel for a pulse, when there was a groan followed by green eyes blinking open and squinting up at her.

 

“Emma,” Regina let out a strangled sob of relief. Emma wasn’t dead. Thank god, thank god, thank god. She wasn’t dead. Regina’s heart was still hammering uncomfortably hard as she rested a hand on Emma’s bare arm, and asked rapid fire questions as Emma shivered under her touch, “Emma what happened? Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Should I call an ambulance?”

 

Emma didn’t respond at first, she just stared confused up at Regina, as if she couldn’t sort out what was going on.

 

Had Emma hit her head? Maybe hard enough that she didn’t know who Regina was? Regina ran through a million possibilities in the minute it took for Emma to answer.           

 

“You’re here?” was what Emma said when she finally did speak, her voice quiet and so confused. 

 

Regina frowned. What kind of answer was that? She stroked Emma’s arm gently, “I’m here,” she confirmed softly, brown eyes studying green ones. Emma looked so vulnerable and it wasn’t just that she was lying in front of Regina naked, it was something in her eyes. “Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?” Regina finally repeated her previous questions. She couldn’t see any visible injury but something must have happened for Emma to be curled up like this without any clothes on. 

 

“I’m fine,” Emma mumbled, her eyes sliding closed with a sigh, as if she couldn’t bear to have Regina looking at her any longer.

 

Regina wasn’t convinced but she accepted the answer for now, standing and grabbing a towel off the back of the door before crouching in front of Emma once more, this time actually sitting on the ground. She covered Emma with the towel and settled her hand back on top of Emma’s arm, rubbing gently once more, “What happened?” she asked. Her heart rate was finally starting to slow down but she still wasn’t convinced that Emma didn’t need medical intervention. She needed answers.  

 

Emma’s eyes blinked slowly up at her with eyelids down to only a few lashes each. “Dizzy,” Emma finally provided as way of an explanation, elaborating only when Regina quirked an eyebrow at her, “I was going to have a bath. I went to get in the tub but then everything was black and I thought I was going to fall down, or maybe throw up, so I got into the fetal position. That’s all.”

 

_ That’s all _ . Regina nearly scoffed at Emma’s last words but she held the tsking sound on the tip of her tongue back. Instead she asked carefully, “Are you sure I shouldn’t call an ambulance?”

 

“I’m fine,” Emma repeated her previous assurance, “I think it’s better now.”

 

“You  _ think _ ?” Regina quirked an eyebrow.

 

Emma just shrugged a shoulder. She stared up at Regina with wide eyes filled with that same vulnerability again, asking quietly,  “Why are you here?”

 

Regina’s heart sunk at the question. Emma must still be angry. “I know I said I’d give you space,” she said carefully, “but I was tired of giving you space. I wanted to see you. Talk to you. I’ll leave if you don’t want me here.”

 

“Space?” Emma’s brow crinkled, “when did you say that?”

 

Regina eyed her in confusion, “In my phone message?”

 

“Oh,” Emma’s face showed understanding then, adding sheepishly, “I sort of...broke my phone.”

 

Regina’s eyebrows arched high towards her hairline, repeating, “You broke your phone?” She tried to decide what that meant. Would Emma have called if she’d had her phone? Was she still angry? Regina had so many questions she didn’t have the answers to.  

 

Emma said nothing, just shivered under the towel.

 

“We really should get you dressed,” Regina decided. Lying on a cold bathroom floor without any clothes on could not be good for Emma.  

 

“I can…” Emma started but Regina cut her off.

 

“Let me help you,” it was more a plea than the demand it would usually be. 

 

Emma blinked slowly. “Why?” she nearly whispered, and then repeated a previous question, “why did you come here?”

 

Regina frowned, her heart sinking again,  “Do you not want me here, Emma?”

 

“I...no, that’s not…I just thought...” Emma sighed and Regina could feel her quivering under the hand she still had resting on Emma’s arm.

 

“You just thought, what?” Regina was still frowning, not understanding at all what Emma was trying to say.

 

“I hung up on you,” Emma said quietly, shivering again, “I thought that was it. That you wouldn’t....”

 

“You thought that I’d give up after one argument,” Regina said. It was a statement not a question, as she finally understood. She shook her head, “You were angry because I screwed up Emma. I know I screwed up. But that doesn’t mean...I wouldn’t just give up because you got mad.”

 

“Oh,” Emma said, like she was genuinely surprised. 

 

Regina sighed softly, “Can I please help you up? And get you dressed? I think we need to have a serious conversation and I really don’t want to do it like  _ this _ .” 

 

Emma sighed but slowly she nodded.

 

Regina stood first and then held out her hands for Emma to take. 

 

Emma pushed herself into a seated position, adjusting the towel to cover herself as best as possible, and then reached up to take the offered hands, lifting herself off of the floor with a groan. 

 

As soon as Emma was standing, Regina wrapped an arm around her waist, worried she would get dizzy again. She could feel Emma shaking under her touch as they moved slowly into the bedroom. Regina helped ease Emma carefully down on the edge of the bed and then she said, “I’m just going to check real quick on Henry and then I’ll get you some clothes, okay?” 

 

Emma nodded her agreement and Regina moved quickly out to the living room to check and make sure Henry was still asleep in his carrier. Satisfied that he was okay, Regina headed back to the bedroom. She couldn’t say she was surprised to find Emma wrapped in the towel in front of her dresser, pulling out clothes, but she sighed, “Would you sit back down before you end up curled up on the ground again?”

 

Emma grumbled an unintelligible response but when Regina added a, “Please,” she moved back over to sit on the edge of the bed. 

 

Regina pulled out undergarments, a pair of sweatpants, and a long sleeve shirt and brought them over to the bed, where Emma was rubbing at her shins, clearly in pain. 

 

Although Regina had already seen plenty today, she respectfully looked away while Emma removed the towel and pulled on the undergarments, only helping with the shirt and sweatpants, which Emma’s stiff limbs seemed to be having difficulty with. 

 

After Emma was dressed, Regina perched beside her on the edge of the bed, sitting close but not close enough that they were touching. They sat in almost uncomfortable silence until Regina broke it with a soft sigh, “Emma...I’m so sorry about the other day. I hope you know that. And I know it doesn’t make it better. But I did want to call you. I knew talking to you would make me feel better. But I just...I screwed up. I just overthought it. I...I thought that maybe you needed sleep more than I needed you. I was trying to be unselfish and I just ended up hurting you. But I did need you. Please believe that. I needed you. I  _ need _ you. And I should have called.”

 

Emma looked up from the spot she’d been staring at the ground and over at Regina, “I don’t understand why.”

 

Regina frowned, “You don’t understand why  _ what _ ?”

 

“Why you need me,” Emma clarified quietly, her head tilting, her eyes wide and plaintive.

 

Regina froze, barely breathing, as she watched Emma carefully, as she took in the vulnerability in Emma’s eyes. Emma, sweet Emma, who seemed to never see her own worth. Last time Regina had been apologizing, she’d been hesitant to say the words that were once again on the tip of her tongue. Today though, today they seemed like the only words she  _ could _ say, the only thing that might make Emma really, truly, understand. “Because I love you, Emma,” Regina said, her voice thick with emotion.

 

Emma’s eyes widened, the surprise evident. “Y-you do?” the words seemed to stick in her throat.

 

“I do,” Regina confirmed seriously. She reached over, incapable of sitting here without touching Emma for even a moment longer. She was glad when Emma let her take one of her hands and lace their fingers together. Regina squeezed Emma’s hand, repeating, “I love you.”

 

“I…” Emma swallowed thickly, her eyes filled with emotion but seemingly at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally admitted.

 

Regina smiled gently at her, “You don’t have to say anything.” She squeezed Emma’s hand again, “I love you and I will repeat it as many times as you need to hear it to believe it. I want to be yours for as long as you’ll have me, Emma...assuming you still want that, that is.”

 

Emma’s response was soft, barely more than I whisper, “I do.”

 

Regina smiled, her heart swelling, her eyes suddenly watery and she swallowed hard to hold back happy tears. She wanted very badly to kiss Emma right then but, well, it was the Saturday post-chemo, which left that off the table. Instead she reached up with her free hand to stroke Emma’s cheek gently. 

 

Emma just smiled softly, leaning into the contact.

 

xxxxxx

 

Later, sitting together on the couch, Emma curled up with her head on Regina’s shoulder, Henry resting in Regina’s lap, his little feet pressed into her stomach, Regina said, “Would you move in with us?” It sort of just slipped out. She had certainly been thinking about it for awhile but she hadn’t actually intended to ask today.

 

Emma immediately lifted her head off of Regina’s shoulder, eyeing Regina uncertainly as if she hadn’t heard correctly, “You want me to move to Storybrooke?”

 

“If you want,” Regina nodded, suddenly nervous and wondering if she’d just made a big mistake, “It doesn’t have to be permanently. But for now. While you’re still getting chemo.” 

 

Emma tilted her head, clearly contemplating it.

 

“I just thought...we don’t see each other enough. And my house doesn’t have three flights of stairs like this apartment does. Plus it would be easier, not having to lug Henry and all of his stuff back and forth,” Regina added reason after reason why she thought it was a good idea. 

 

“Umm…” Emma gnawed her lip a minute looking down at Henry and then back over at Regina. She shrugged, relaxing, “yeah, sure, I guess.”

 

“Really?” Regina couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

 

“Yeah,” Emma smiled too, yawning as settled her head back onto Regina’s shoulder.

 

It was a rather anticlimactic way to decide to move in together but anticlimactic was perfectly fine by Regina.

 

They lapsed into silence, watching the TV screen for awhile before Regina broke the silence again, “By the way, you forget to lock your door again.”

 

Emma didn’t lift her head from Regina’s shoulder, just said quietly, almost sheepishly, “I didn’t forget.”  

 

“You didn’t?” Regina’s brow furrowed, as she tried to sort out what that meant. She came up blank though and eventually curiosity got the better of her, “Why was it unlocked then?”

 

Emma lifted her head off of Regina’s shoulder just enough so that she could look up at her. “It’s Saturday. And you usually….I kind of hoped that maybe…” she trailed off, her voice getting impossibly quiet, Regina having to strain to hear the last words, “that maybe you’d show up.” 

 

_ Oh _ . Regina’s eyes widened in surprise as a fond smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Regina didn’t say anything, just pecked Emma chastely on the lips, still smiling, as Emma laid her head back on Regina’s shoulder. 

Emma might not have said I love you back earlier but she’d left the door unlocked for Regina. She’d  _ hoped _ that Regina would come. And Regina knew that hope wasn’t something that Emma did easily. Emma wanted Regina just as much as Regina wanted her. The thought made Regina’s heart swell with love and happiness. 


	12. Endings and Beginnings

Emma hadn't really realized that when Regina said _move in with us_ , she'd meant, like, right then that day.

 

But late afternoon, when Henry started getting fussy, Regina suggested that they just pack up whatever Emma needed for the next week and a half, pointing out that they'd be back in Boston at that point for Emma's next treatment and they could get more of her things then.

 

Regina’s suggestion that _they_ pack, turned out to mean less _they_ and more _Regina_.

 

Regina wouldn't Emma do anything more than lie on the bed with Henry and point out whatever she needed.

 

Emma didn't need much and Regina had everything gathered up in no time, leaving Emma with Henry while she carried things downstairs to load into her car.

 

Curled up on her side, Emma looked down at Henry lying beside her on his back. She rubbed his belly gently, smiling softly at him, “I guess we're going to be roommates, buddy. I hope that's okay with you.”

 

Looking up at her with wide eyes, Henry flailed his arms, his little hands balled into fists.

 

Emma smiled fondly, “I'm going to take that as enthusiasm.” Still smiling, she lifted her head from her pillow, bending forward to press a kiss into the soft down of hair haloing his head.

 

He waved his arms some more as Emma resettled her head on her pillow, still rubbing his belly. “Want to hear a secret?” she asked him, pausing as if he might answer her before continuing even quieter, “No one's ever told me they love me before. Your mom is the first.” It was true, she couldn’t recall a single instance in her life where someone had uttered those words to her. Perhaps the very first couple, the ones who’d kept her for three years, had but she couldn’t remember that. Certainly none of her other foster parents had. And she'd never had a serious relationship before.

 

Emma shook her head, shaking those thoughts away, her focus back on Henry’s face, although she was still pensive, “Want to know something else? I've never said it to anyone before either.”

 

She thought that she maybe, probably, did love Regina. It was hard to know for sure, hard to correctly recognize emotions she'd never been on either the giving or receiving end of before. But what she did know was that she’d never felt about _anyone_ the way she felt about Regina. Regina could make her smile even when she felt her absolute worst by just being there. The other day, when she’d thought for a brief moment that something had happened to Regina, it had felt as if the whole world was ending. That must be love? Right? The possibility of telling Regina that though was actually sort of terrifying in the overwhelming kind of way.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the apartment door opening and closing and a moment later Regina was leaning against the door frame of the bedroom.

 

Emma looked up from Henry and over at Regina, who was watching them with the softest of expressions. “Time to go?” Emma asked.

 

“Yes,” Regina smiled softly, fondly, “time to go.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Curled up in the passenger seat with two blankets that Regina had tucked carefully around her and her head resting on a pillow that had been placed between her and the window, Emma was asleep within the first ten minutes of the drive to Storybrooke.

 

Henry seemed to be asleep too and Regina spent the next hour driving with nothing but the sound of soft breathing to keep her company.

 

She didn't mind.

 

Emma was coming home with her. Emma was going to live with her and Henry - even if it might be just until chemo was over.

 

Regina glanced over at her sleeping girlfriend, her heart fluttering with fondness and love.

 

She couldn't remember ever feeling quite so content in her life.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma woke with a groan to someone nudging her shoulder gently. She groaned again, stretching slowly as she righted herself in the seat and looked over at Regina.

 

“We're home,” Regina supplied unnecessarily.

 

Emma's heart did a weird flip at the way Regina called it _home_ so naturally, as if the word applied to Emma too, as if this was where Emma belonged.

 

Emma just nodded, her head still foggy with sleep. She was slower than Regina to get out of the vehicle and by the time she pushed the passenger door open, Regina was already pulling Henry in his carrier out of the backseat.

 

Emma couldn't contain the moan of pain that came as she pushed herself out of the car stiffly, already aching bones protesting having been in the same slightly awkward position for an hour.

 

A hand was instantly on her lower back, hot breath near her ear as Regina asked, “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma said but didn’t protest when Regina left her hand on her back as they moved slowly towards the house.

 

Another moan of pain escaped against her will when she had to raise her knee high enough to climb the porch steps. Regina’s hand pressed firmer against her back and Emma answered the question written all over Regina’s face before she could ask it, “My bones just ache.”

 

They climbed the last step and Regina finally withdrew her hand from Emma's back so that she could unlock the front door. She set Henry’s carrier down and turned the key in the lock, pushing the door open and glancing back at Emma, “You need a bath.” It wasn't a question but a statement.

 

“It would help,” Emma agreed. Hot water was really the only thing that she'd found that helped with the growth factor shot induced bone pain. She usually took two or three baths on the day after she gave herself the shot but today she hadn't had a single one - there had just been her failed attempt before Regina had found her.

 

Regina nodded, picking Henry’s carrier back up, still holding the door open. She waited for Emma to pass into the house and then she followed. “You can use the tub in the master bathroom,” she said as she set Henry’s carrier down in the entranceway, removing her jacket and then lifting the baby out of the carrier.

 

Emma just shrugged, “Shouldn't we bring the stuff in from the car first?”

 

Regina shook her head, “I'll take care of it later.”

 

Emma shrugged again and let Regina lead the way up stairs through the master bedroom into the master bathroom. Emma's eyes widened at the size of the room. It was gorgeous, all grey and white marble, with a double sink vanity, a large shower with glass doors, and a large corner jacuzzi style tub.

 

“Could you hold Henry?” Regina asked, carefully transferring the baby to Emma when she nodded.

 

Emma cradled Henry close, leaning against the counter while Regina fiddled with the taps on the tub. Emma considered saying that she knew how to fill a tub with water herself but Regina seemed on a mission, testing the water and adding bubbles of some kind, and turning on jets, and setting a fluffy looking towel down within arms reach of tub, and, so Emma just watched.

 

Once the tub was filled and Regina was finally done fussing with it, she moved over to Emma, taking Henry back from her.

 

“Thanks,” Emma smiled.

 

Regina nodded, “If you need anything else…” she trailed off, not finishing the thought but hovering almost awkwardly near the door.

 

Emma eyed her curiously. Regina seemed almost nervous all of a sudden.

 

They stared at each other for a long moment before Regina said uncertainly, “I guess I'll leave you to it.”

 

“Are you okay?” Emma frowned.

 

“Of course,” Regina answered immediately but it didn't quite ring true.

 

“ _Regina,”_ Emma said in the tone Regina usually used on her when she was pretending to be fine even though she clearly wasn't.

 

Regina sighed, her eyes shifting uncertainly between Emma and the tub, “You'll be okay to climb into the tub?”

 

It was only then that Emma realized that the emotion Regina was exuding wasn't  nervousness - it was fear. Emma felt a bit like an idiot. She hadn't really considered how her failed attempt to climb into a tub, literally just this morning, might have affected Regina. It had been fairly mortifying to be found that way but she hadn’t considered how it must have felt from Regina’s perspective. Emma could only imagine how she might have reacted if she'd been the one to find Regina in that position. “I'm sorry I scared you this morning,” Emma said quietly.

 

“You didn't,” Regina said a little too quickly.

 

“Regina…” Emma said carefully, in a tone that was gentle yet clear that she didn’t believe her. She pushed herself off of where she was still leaning against the vanity and took the few steps required to close the distance between herself and Regina, her gate still stiff. She didn't say anything else, just wrapped her arms around Regina from the side, one arm up around her shoulders, the other around her waist, hugging her tightly, mindful of Henry in her arms.

 

Regina sagged into the contact, her eyes fluttering closed, taking slow deep breaths as Emma’s hug seemed to comfort her.

 

When Regina’s eyes fluttered back open, Emma kissed her cheek, loosening her grip but leaving her arms around Regina. “If I need help, I'll call for you. I promise. But I really am okay. It's not as if what happened this morning happens every time I try and get in a tub.”

 

Regina sighed softly but she seemed calmer now. “You did scare me,” she admitted quietly.

 

“I know,” Emma smiled gently, kissing Regina’s cheek again, “I'm sorry.”

 

“It's not your fault,” Regina turned her head so that she could kiss Emma chastely on the lips, “Just try not to do it again.”

 

Emma smiled that same gentle smile, “I'll do my best.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Bedtime came early that night.

 

Her almost two month old, coupled with worry over her fight with Emma, had prevented Regina from getting much sleep the last few nights, so when eighty thirty rolled around and it was clear that Emma's eyes were barely open any more, Regina stretched on the couch and said, “I think I'm going to go to bed.”

 

Emma rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, “Yeah, me too.”

 

Regina carried Henry upstairs, Emma trailing just behind her. Once they were on the landing that things got slightly awkward.

 

Emma's gaze drifted uncertainly between the door to the guest room she'd stayed in all the previous times she'd slept here and the door to the master bedroom.

 

Regina shifted Henry in her arms and said carefully, “Do you think Henry waking up through the night will bother you too much? He usually wakes up three or four times.” Henry was still too young to sleep in his own room. Currently Regina had his bassinet set up right beside her bed.

 

Emma gnawed her lip a moment but then she shrugged, “Probably not.”

 

“Alright, then sleep in the master bedroom,” Regina said. It was phrased like a statement but her words still carried a question with them. The few times she'd spent the night in Boston since they'd become a couple, they'd shared Emma's bed but Regina didn't want to presume anything. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle up next to Emma but only if that was what Emma wanted too.

 

“Okay,” Emma agreed easily, her previous tension melting away.

 

Regina smiled at her and led the way into the master bedroom. She settled Henry into his bassinet, and then slipped into the bathroom to change into her pajamas and brush her teeth.

 

Emma, who Regina knew had started only brushing her teeth in the morning when her mouth was sore, was already under the covers when Regina reemerged from the bathroom.

 

“I assumed you sleep on the side beside Henry’s bassinet?” Emma mumbled, blinking her eyes open a crack to stare over at Regina.

 

“Yes,” Regina smiled, climbing up onto the bed beside Emma.

 

Emma, curled up in a ball on her side, immediately shuffled closer, her head bumping against Regina’s shoulder. Regina smiled again fondly as she wrapped an arm around Emma’s back, encouraging her to move even closer.

 

Emma didn't need much encouragement and she shuffled until her head was resting on Regina’s chest and she sighed in what seemed to be contentment.

 

Regina rubbed Emma's back, dropping a kiss to the top of her bald head and whispering, “I'm glad you're here.”

 

“Me too,” Emma mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and within minutes her breathing had evened out as dream land claimed her.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma’s slept restlessly that night. Regina kept murmuring soft apologies any time Henry woke screaming and Emma's eyes cracked open but Emma actually thought that she'd slept better than usual. She was _always_ unsettled the Saturday night post chemo and she felt like she'd tossed and turned and woken less than usual.

 

Sun was now streaming through the blinds and she stretched slowly, her eyes blinking open as she realized she was alone in the bed. She definitely hadn't heard Regina or Henry get up and a quick glance at the alarm clock told her it was after 10 o’clock. The last thing she remembered was it being 2 am, which meant that she'd _definitely_ slept better than usual.

 

Emma stayed in bed awhile longer until the pressure on her bladder became too insistent and she was forced to leave the warm cocoon of blankets in the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept in.

 

After she was done in the washroom and had brushed her teeth, she tugged on a hoodie, and headed down the stairs in search of Regina and Henry.

 

She found them in the kitchen, Henry in his baby seat and Regina sitting at the table reading the newspaper, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Emma leaned against the door frame and just watched them. It felt surreal, that these people were _hers_. It was the Sunday post chemo, four and a half months into rigorous treatment, she felt absolutely awful, but standing here watching Regina and Henry she sort of didn't even care. This must be what love was, right?

 

Probably sensing the eyes watching her, Regina looked up from her paper, brown eyes locking with green ones. “Emma,” Regina smiled, “You're awake.”

 

Emma nodded, smiling back, but she didn't immediately make a move, just stayed where she was leaning against the door frame.

 

“I'm sorry Henry woke you up so much last night,” Regina looked truly apologetic.

 

“He didn't actually,” Emma shook her head.

 

Regina quirked a disbelieving eyebrow.

 

“Honestly,” Emma told her, “I slept better than I usually do Saturday night post chemo.”

 

Regina’s eyebrow quirked just a little higher, “Really?”

 

Emma couldn't help but chuckle at the expression, pushing herself off of the door frame and walking over to the table. “Yes, _really_ ,” she smiled fondly, kissing Regina’s cheek and dropping into the chair beside her.

 

Regina pulled her glasses off, setting them on the table and pushing her chair back, “I'll make you breakfast.”

 

“I'm not hungry,” Emma shrugged, slouching down in the chair.

 

“You have to eat,” Regina said firmly, eyeing Emma with the look that meant this wasn't up for debate.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Emma grumbled but she couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her lips when Regina paused to kiss the top of her head before moving towards the fridge to make Emma the promised breakfast.

 

xxxxxx

 

Later that day, Regina worked on dinner while Emma and Henry slept in the living room.

 

Or, at least, Regina _thought_ that they were sleeping in the living room. They'd both been out cold when she’d left them - Emma on the couch and Henry in his swinging chair. But she'd only been in the kitchen twenty minutes when she heard Emma shout.

 

“Regina!”

 

Regina’s heart immediately began to race, panic and fear bubbling in her chest as she rushed from the kitchen to the living room, sliding to a halt at the sight she was met with.

 

Emma was sitting up on the couch, Henry was in her lap, facing her with his feet pressed to her stomach, Emma was holding his hands and grinning down at him.

 

As Regina approached the couch, Emma looked up at her, her grin widening even further, looking perhaps happier than Regina had ever seen her look. “He's smiling!” Emma rushed out, the joy in her voice obvious.

 

“He is not,” Regina said in complete disbelief, her heart rate slowing, her panic ebbing, as she moved over to the couch and sat herself down beside Emma, pressing close to her side so that she could see Henry’s squishy little face. He didn't seem to be smiling now. “He isn't smiling,” she repeated, this time more disappointed than disbelieving.

 

“Oh come on kid,” Emma moved his arms, “Aren't you going to smile for your mommy?”

 

Henry’s eyes widened at the sound of Emma's voice and then it happened, his lips tugged into a gummy baby smile.

 

Regina’s heart was so full of love in that moment that she thought it might burst. This was perhaps the best thing she'd _ever_ seen. Her precious baby boy was smiling up at Emma. Henry was smiling the most adorable smile of any baby she'd ever seen. She didn't care that she would probably be called biased for that opinion.

 

“Good job,” Emma cooed at him, grinning that dopey happy grin again, “Good job Henry.” She glanced over at Regina, “ _See_?”

 

“I do see,” Regina smiled. She pressed even closer to Emma, Emma leaning over slightly so that Regina’s head would appear directly above Henry. Regina settled a hand on his belly and Henry stared up at her, all wide eyes and long eyelashes, “Can you smile again for mommy my little prince?”

 

At the sound of her voice, just as he'd done at the sound of Emma's, Henry’s eyes widened and he flashed her a gummy baby smile.

 

Regina was grinning just as idiotically as  Emma now.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina assumed that with Emma still recovering from chemo, Monday would be much like Sunday - spent curled up on the couch watching movies. But when they moved into the living room after a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast that Emma barely touched (one more thing for Regina to cross off her list of foods that Emma might actually want to eat), Emma refused to lie down.

 

Instead Emma sat upright on the couch, one knee constantly bobbing up and down, her fingers fidgeting - sometimes twisting together in her lap, sometimes tapping against the side of the couch.

 

By halfway through the movie, Regina couldn't ignore it anymore. Looking over at Emma she asked carefully, “Are you okay?”

 

Emma's fingers stilled their current rhythm against the couch cushion, although her knee continued to bounce up and down. She turned her head slowly to meet Regina’s worried gaze, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

 

Regina was unconvinced and she quirked an eyebrow, reaching over and settling a hand on Emma's shoulder, rubbing a gentle pattern with just the pad of her thumb, “What's with the fidgeting, then?”

 

Emma looked from Regina down to her still bouncing knee, stilling the motion as if she just realized she was doing it. She looked back at Regina and shrugged, “It's just a Monday thing.”

 

Regina eyed her curiously, “A Monday thing?”

 

Emma shrugged again, her knee resuming its bounce almost of its own volition, “Yeah. I don't know. I'm just restless.” She sighed, “I'm _always_ restless on the Monday following chemo. It's not a big deal.”

 

Regina ignored Emma's _it's not a big deal_ and instead focused on the other part of what she'd said. “Restless _how_?” She asked, her thumb still rubbing gently against Emma’s shoulder. She wanted to understand what exactly it was Emma was feeling, wanted to understand what was making her so very clearly uncomfortable.

 

Emma shrugged yet again, “I don't know…” her forehead scrunched up, as if she was thinking hard about the question. After a minute the wrinkles in her forehead smoothed and she held up a hand, palm facing outwards, and she shook it side to side, “That's what my insides feel like. Like... vibrating. My brain feels the same. It's like... all I want to do is get up and run.”

 

Regina’s head tilted, the motion of her thumb finally stilling on Emma’s shoulder. She wasn’t quite sure she understood what Emma meant by vibrating but she understood enough to know that sitting here wasn’t what Emma needed right now. “Do you want to do something? Go for a walk maybe?”

 

Emma sighed deeply, “No. I…that’s the problem with Monday’s. Everything is humming. My brain is screaming. But my body is still a mess. I couldn’t walk around the block right now if my life depended on it.”

 

Emma sounded so defeated and it made Regina’s heart ache. She’d never been with Emma on a Monday post chemo before and she hadn’t had any clue that it was a day where she felt so awful. She was glad, at least, that Emma was willing to be honest about how she felt. Regina was sure that there must be something she could do to help. There must be a better option for Emma than sitting here on the couch. She glanced around the room, her eye catching a painting of a horse mounted on the wall, an idea striking her. For many years when he'd been alive, her father had bought her horse themed puzzles. She hadn't done one in many years but the entire collection was carefully stored in a closet in one of the guest rooms upstairs. “What about a puzzle?” she made the suggestion.

 

Emma's brow crinkled in confusion, “A puzzle?”

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded, “Like a jigsaw puzzle. We could set it up on the dining room table. It doesn't require much energy or thought but it is something different than just sitting here.”

 

Emma's brow remained crinkled a moment but then she shrugged, “Sure, why not.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina showed Emma the carefully stacked puzzles lining the closet shelves of one of the upstairs guest rooms.

 

“Wow,” Emma said as she studied them, a finger reaching out to trace along the edges of the boxes, “I didn't know you liked horses so much.”

 

“I used to ride a lot,” Regina answered, a hand reaching up to smooth her hair.

 

Emma glanced away from the shelves and over at Regina curiously, “Really?”

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded, “I actually had a horse growing up. Rocinante.”

 

Emma laughed, a sharp loud chuckle filled with amusement, “Of course you did.”

 

Regina shrugged a shoulder. Lots of her friends had had horses, it wasn't such a big deal. Although she supposed in contrast to Emma's childhood, having a horse probably did seem like quite a big deal.

 

Emma's head tilted, looking curious again. “You said _used_ to ride. You don't anymore?”

 

“No,” Regina shook her head.

 

“How come?” Emma asked, still looking curious.

 

Regina’s lips pursed. She'd unintentionally started an uncomfortable conversation and now she wasn't sure what to do about it. She could push it off, say something vague. She knew Emma wouldn't push if she said she didn't want to talk about it. But, the odd thing was, she realized that she _did_ want to talk about it. She wanted Emma to know what had happened. “Daniel,” she said, and the way Emma’s eyes widened told Regina that that alone could be explanation enough, but she continued, her words quiet and serious, “He was a stable hand at the stable where I boarded Rocinante. That's how we met,” Regina swallowed thickly, “He was a good man. Kind and gentle. And he was so good with the horses.” She paused. She'd never actually told anyone this before. Had never actually said it out loud.

 

Emma was watching her with green eyes filled with such compassion. Emma reached forward and snagged Regina’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly, “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

 

Regina blinked slowly, swallowing again, “I do want to.” She squeezed Emma's hand back and then finished the story, her voice flat, “There was a fire. Daniel tried his best to save the horses but he got trapped in the barn…” she did stop there. There was no need to finish. No need to say what was clear - Daniel and Rocinante had both died in that fire and Regina had packed up all her things and moved with a broken heart to Storybrooke. After a decade it didn't hurt quite as bad as it used to. Saying it out loud actually hurt less than she imagined it would - as if she were sharing a weight that had always laid on her shoulders, lightening the load.

 

Emma dropped Regina’s hand and closed the remaining distance between them, wrapping her arms tightly around Regina, pulling her so close that it almost seemed like she was trying to fold Regina into herself. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” Emma whispered.

 

Regina said nothing, just buried her head in the crook of Emma's neck, breathing in the scent of body wash and what she was pretty sure was the shampoo she kept in the master bathroom - although she didn't understand why Emma would be using shampoo.

 

Emma pressed a kiss into Regina’s hair, standing perfectly still for the first time that day, as if her own discomfort suddenly meant little to her, and all that mattered was comforting Regina.

 

Overwhelming emotion bubbled in Regina’s chest and she wouldn't have been able to hold back the words that spilled out even if she wanted to. “I love you,” Regina murmured quietly, her head still buried in the crook of Emma's neck.

 

Emma said nothing, just held Regina a little tighter and kissed her head again. Regina could almost feel the vibration under Emma's skin now, could sense her need to move, and yet Emma remained still, stable, strong, a calming presence. Emma remained exactly what Regina needed in that moment

 

It wasn't _I love you_ but it felt the same.

 

xxxxxx

 

Eventually they broke apart and Emma picked out a 1000 piece puzzle with two horses and a foal galloping through a field of flowers, which they brought downstairs to the dining room table.

 

Emma upended the box, pieces spilling every which way onto the table, while Regina watched a bit horrified. Her horror only mounted when Emma turned over only half of the pieces and then started trying to fit together pieces seemingly at random with one hand, while her other hand tapped against the edge of the table, one of her knees resuming the bounce from earlier on the couch.  

 

“What are you doing?” Regina eyed Emma like she'd lost her mind and started turning pieces over so that they were _all_ face up. Who did a puzzle with half of the pieces facing down?

 

“Umm….” Emma looked up confused, “the puzzle?”

 

“You're supposed to start with the border,” Regina told her seriously, shaking her head as Emma managed to snap two non-border pieces together with one hand, the other hand still drumming against the table. Had Emma never done a puzzle before?

 

Emma eyed Regina strangely a long moment and then she barked out a laugh, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

 

“Are you laughing at me?” Regina quirked an eyebrow at her, although she was having a hard time suppressing a smile at Emma's amusement, which was adorable.

 

“Yes,” Emma didn't even try to deny it, laughing again, “I didn't know you were the puzzle police.”

 

Regina swatted playfully at Emma's arm, “That's not nice.”

 

“Owww,” Emma rubbed her arm in an exaggerated manner, “How am I the not nice one? You just hit me. That's very not nice. I have cancer you know.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes, laughing, “You choose _now_ to play the cancer card?”

 

Emma shrugged, smirking in complete amusement, “Maybe.”

 

Any response that Regina might have given was lost when Henry started wailing. Regina left Emma with the puzzle to go retrieve him. She made him a bottle and then headed back into the dining room, settling down in a chair beside Emma to feed Henry.

 

Emma _still_ wasn't working on the border but her leg wasn't bouncing anymore and her hand wasn't tapping against the table, her full concentration on the pieces in front of her. Regina supposed she could live with Emma's unconventional approach so long as working on this puzzle was helping her unease.

 

As if reading her mind, Emma chose that moment to glance over at Regina, smiling.

 

Regina smiled back.

 

Emma reached over, rubbing the top of Henry’s head gently as he guzzled his bottle. Her smile turned into a smirk. “You know, someday I'm going to teach Henry that the best way to start a puzzle is with the eyes.”

 

“You most certainly will not,” Regina said firmly, her eyes narrowed at Emma, even as her heart did a happy flip.

 

Emma laughed, “We’ll see.”

 

It wasn't _I love you_ but _someday_ and _we’ll see_ , words that promised a future together, felt the same.

 

xxxxxx

 

On Wednesday they _finally_ left the house, taking the short walk to Granny's, Emma pushing the stroller and Regina walking in step beside her.

 

It was too early for lunch but Emma needed a break before she'd be up to walking back to the manor, so they went inside and slid into what was starting to seem like their usual booth.

 

When Ruby came over, Regina ordered a coffee but Emma just shook her head when Ruby asked if she wanted something.

 

Ruby returned quickly with Regina’s coffee and a plate that she set down in front of Emma, “Granny says eat that. On the house.”

 

Emma stared in surprise at the plate in front of her - it had a pastry on it. She glanced curiously back up at Ruby, the question written all over her face.

 

“It's a bear claw,” Ruby explained, “Granny says you should eat more.”

 

Emma’s eyes narrowed in Regina’s direction, “Did you put her up to this?”

 

“Yes,” Regina said dryly, “We discussed it at the secret meeting of the Emma Needs to Eat More Club.”

 

Ruby laughed and Emma scowled at both of them, rolling her eyes, but then with a soft sigh she told Ruby, “Tell Granny thanks.”

 

“Sure,” Ruby nodded and disappeared back towards the kitchen.

 

Emma looked back at the plate. It would probably be rude to not have at least some of this bear claw. She tore a piece of the pastry and popped into her mouth. It tasted surprisingly good. The dough was soft and sweet. It was probably the best thing she'd eaten in months. She could feel Regina’s eyes on her as she tore another piece off. Emma looked across the table and shrugged, as if to say, ‘so what’.

 

Regina said nothing.

 

By the time Ruby returned to top up Regina’s coffee, Emma had eaten the entire bear claw.

 

“I take it you liked that?” Ruby motioned to the empty plate.

 

“Actually, yes,” Emma smiled, sounding surprised, “I really did.”

 

“Seriously?” Regina quirked an eyebrow at Emma from across the table, “I’ve been trying forever to find something you'd like to eat and _this_ is it? This sugary, no nutritional value, pastry is the thing?”

 

“Sorry?” Emma shrugged almost sheepishly, smirking at Regina.

 

Regina shook her head but she smiled at Emma, “I suppose it's still calories. And you could certainly use those. If you really like it, we'll get one every day.”

 

Emma laughed.

 

“You going to have them shipped to Boston?” Ruby joked.

 

“Actually....” Emma glanced quickly over at Regina. Regina was still smiling so Emma guessed it was okay for her to continue, “I'm sort of living in Storybrooke. For now.”

 

Ruby's eyes widened in surprise and then her lips tugged into a slow, amused, smile. She waggled her eyebrows up and down, “Oh really.”

 

Emma blushed.

 

Regina was the one to answer, “ _Really_.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Kathryn called just after lunch, wasting little time after Regina picked up the phone to say, “What is this I hear about Emma moving in with you?”

 

“I see that the gossip mill is still in working order,” Regina said instead of actually answering and then after a beat added, “Ruby told you, I take it?”

 

“Yes, she did,” Kathryn confirmed, “Although I don't understand why I had to hear it at Granny's instead of from _you_ , my supposed friend.”

 

“Kathryn…” Regina sighed softly, apologetically.

 

“Oh relax, I know you have a baby and a girlfriend with cancer. You're busy. I get it. I’m just bothering you,” Kathryn laughed into the phone, “Emma forgave you then I take it?”

 

“Yes,” Regina breathed out.

 

“Good,” Kathryn’s reply was soft now, sincere.

 

“Yes,” Regina agreed. It was _really_ good.

 

xxxxxx

 

“I think I’m going to have to go back to work after your next treatment,” Regina sighed a few nights later after dinner. They were in the living room, curled up together on the couch, Emma's head resting in Regina’s lap, Henry across from them, asleep in his swinging chair. Regina had put off her return to work as long as possible but she really couldn't leave the Town to run itself much longer. Not that she didn't trust the deputy mayor to do a good job in her absence - well, actually, who was she kidding, she _didn't_ , which was why she really did need to get back to work.

 

“Really?” Emma rotated her head so that she was looking up at Regina.

 

“Yes. I don't think I can put it off more than a couple more weeks,” Regina sighed again, “I wonder how Henry will do at daycare. What if he doesn't like it?”

 

“I've been thinking about that,” Emma said.

 

“You have?” Regina looked down at her, eyeing her curiously, wondering when exactly Emma had been thinking about Henry going to daycare and why.

 

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded, pushing herself into a seated position with a groan. She pulled one leg and then the other up onto the couch, now sitting cross legged facing Regina. “I know you've got it all lined up for when you go back to work...but I was thinking...what if I watch Henry?”

 

Regina’s eyebrow arched towards her hairline of their own accord.

 

Emma held up a hand to stop her from saying anything, “No, no. Don’t look at me like that. Hear me out. Obviously I can't watch him on cancer centre days. And probably not, like, the Friday or Monday following chemo. But my two worst days are Saturday and Sunday. When you're home. And all the other days but those ones are...manageable. I mean I sleep a lot. But Henry sleeps a lot too. I can nap when he naps. Why pay for daycare when I'll just be here by myself being all bored and alone….”

 

The rambling was adorable and Regina let it go on for awhile before she finally cut Emma off, “You're supposed to be resting and taking care of yourself. You shouldn’t have to take care of an infant at the same time.”

 

Emma just shook her head stubbornly, “Didn't you hear the part about all of the naps?”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow, “And what about the dizziness?”

 

“I'm careful with Henry. I never stand up from a seated position while I'm holding him since that first time. And that's really the worst cause of dizziness,” Emma said quickly, her posture suddenly just a bit defensive.

 

Regina reached over and settled a hand on Emma's knee, shaking her head and saying softly, “That's not what I meant. Of course you're careful with Henry. Of course you would do a great job watching him. I just worry about _you_. I don't want you to wear yourself out anymore than you already are.”

 

“Oh…” Emma’s eyes widened a little but she relaxed, waving Regina off with a hand, “I’d be fine.” Emma eyed her with hopeful eyes then, an expression that could only be compared to that of a puppy, “Just...think about it, _please._ ”

 

Regina couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips at Emma's expression. “Okay,” she agreed but then she sobered a bit, “But only if…” she swallowed, choosing her words carefully, “only if you really want to do this and it's not just something you think you _should_ .” She was worried that this offer might be an extension of Emma's guilt about the way her cancer impacted their lives. They hadn't really talked about it since Emma moved in. Regina was pretty sure her declaration of love followed by the offer for Emma to move to Storybrooke had abated some of Emma's feeling of not being enough but she doubted they'd just vanished completely. She knew that it would just take time. Maybe someday when they'd been together long enough, when Regina had _really_ proved that she wasn't leaving, Emma would believe then.

 

Emma shook her head, looking mildly affronted that Regina would even ask, “I want to.” She sighed, the tension that had suddenly crept up in her shoulders easing some, “Please just think about it.” This time the request wasn't accompanied by the earnest puppy dog expression.

 

“Okay,” Regina said.

 

“Thanks,” Emma smiled softly, the remainder of her tension easing.

 

Regina smiled too. “I meant, okay, you can watch Henry some days. I'll talk to the daycare and work out a schedule,” she clarified because she was pretty sure Emma had misunderstood.

 

“Really?” Emma asked, surprised and pleased all at once.

 

“Yes, really,” Regina confirmed with a half-chuckle, half-sigh. She couldn't help but think Emma's expression was adorable but the question itself was a little too close to the self-doubt that Regina just wanted to take away. She rubbed Emma's knee gently, needing to reassure her, “If you say you're up for it, I believe you. And there's no one I trust with Henry more than you.”

 

Emma’s grin softened, her eyes reflecting how much that seemed to mean to her. She swallowed thickly but didn't say anything.

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow at her, adding, “And I also trust that if it ends up being too much for you, then you will _tell_ me and not just pretend that everything is fine. Got it?”

 

“Yes dear,” Emma barked out a laugh, leaning forward and kissing Regina’s cheek.

 

Regina rolled her eyes at the _yes dear_ but she twisted her head so that her lips connected with Emma's.

 

They both sighed contently, leaning into the kiss.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina arranged it so that, once she went back to work, Henry would go to daycare on the Wednesday, Thursday, Friday of Emma's chemo treatment week and on the Monday, Tuesday of the week following treatment.

 

Before Regina actually went back to work though, Emma had to get through her next treatment, which also meant Henry having a trial run at the daycare.

 

The Wednesday morning of chemo 5B was filled with a flutter of nerves.

 

“But what if something happens? You'll be an hour away,” Emma gnawed on her lip, sitting cross legged on the bed while Regina packed Henry’s diaper bag.

 

They'd already talked about this, more than once. Henry would be fine. The home daycare he was going to was the best one in town, she'd made sure of it. Emma's worry was endearing though and in an odd way it made her feel calmer. If Emma was going to be panicked, then she had to be calm - they certainly couldn't _both_ be panicked. “An hour isn't that far,” Regina told her as she zipped the bag up, “And nothing is going to happen.”

 

Emma gnawed her lip some more, “Are you sure we can't just bring him with us?”

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Emma sighed exaggeratedly.

 

Regina shook her head, moving over to the edge of the bed, leaning over so that she could press her lips firmly to Emma's, “I love you.”

 

Emma smiled into the kiss, sighing contently.

 

And it wasn't _I love you_ but Emma's concern over Henry felt the same.

 

xxxxxx

 

Later, sitting in one of the recliners in the chemo suite, Emma watched bright red medication travel through the syringe up through the tube that connected to her port. She was only half listening to Mary Margaret drone on about the nice spring weather they'd been having. As Mary Margaret kept talking, Emma glanced over at Regina.

 

Regina seemed to be paying just as little attention to Mary Margaret’s prattling as Emma was. She was actually looking at her phone. She must sense Emma's eyes on her though because she looked up.

 

Emma quirked a non-existent eyebrow at Regina, smiling.

 

Regina smiled back.

 

Mary Margaret finished pushing the Adriamycin and got the Bleomycin set up and dripping through the IV pump and then she walked away. Once she was gone, Emma asked Regina, “Should we call the daycare?”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow at her, “Why?”

 

“To make sure Henry is doing okay,” Emma said, as if that should have been obvious to Regina.

 

Regina chuckled lightly, “He's fine, Emma.”

 

“How do you know?” Emma shook her head, “Why aren't you freaking out?”

 

Regina laughed again, reaching over and patting Emma's leg, “I think you've got the market on freaking out cornered.”

 

Emma narrowed her eyes at her.

 

“Also,” Regina added smoothly, “I just got this…” she held up her phone, showing it to Emma.

 

Emma grabbed the phone and studied the screen. It was a photo of Henry sound asleep at the daycare. Emma shook her head at Regina, her eyes still narrowed, “You're awful. You couldn't have just led with that?”

 

Regina chuckled again, shrugging a shoulder as she took the phone back from Emma,“What fun would that be?”

 

Emma rolled her eyes but it was impossible to keep the smile off of her face.

 

xxxxxx

 

There was a big difference between driving the ten minutes to Emma's apartment and driving the hour and a bit to Storybrooke after treatment.

 

By the time they made it to Henry’s daycare, Emma was passed out cold, scrunched up in a ball in the passenger seat.

 

Regina slipped out of the car as quietly as possible, managing to get Henry loaded into the backseat and drive home without waking Emma. Once she was parked and the car was turned off she reached over and shook Emma's shoulder gently, “Emma, Emma, time to wake up.”

 

Emma groaned, shrugging away from Regina’s touch, curling into a tighter ball and mumbling something unintelligible.

 

“Emma,” Regina nudged Emma's shoulder again, “We’re home.”

 

Emma grumbled something unintelligible again but she  stretched, rotating in her seat and eying Regina with bleary, confused, eyes, “Home?”

 

“Yes,” Regina smiled fondly at Emma's sleepy expression, repeating, “We’re home.”

 

“Mmm…” Emma smiled, her eyes closing.

 

“No,” Regina said, nudging Emma's shoulder once more, “Don't go back to sleep. We're going inside.”

 

Green eyes blinked back open slowly, “Do we have to?”

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded, amused now.

 

“M’kay,” Emma mumbled still clearly half asleep. She groaned as she sat up straighter, unsnapping her seatbelt and getting out of the car, letting herself be led into the house.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma’s recovery from her second chemo treatment of her fifth cycle was unremarkable.

 

There was a lot of lying around, warm baths, watching movies but missing half of the plot because she’d fallen asleep, working on the puzzle still spread out on the dining room table and, when almost a week had past, a short trip out of the house to Granny’s mostly because Emma was going stir crazy.

 

This was the truth about cancer that Hollywood didn't tell, Emma thought. It was long, and monotonous, and often oh so very boring.

 

The Friday evening of the week following the latest chemo treatment, Kathryn and Frederick invited Regina and Emma over for dinner.

 

The meal was nice, mashed potatoes and green beans and chicken, but Emma mostly just pushed food around her plate. Kathryn had served and she’d put twice as much food on Emma’s plate as Emma's stomach would ever be willing to accept, even on a day like today where she was feeling sort of decent, or as decent as she ever felt after five months of chemo. When Henry started crying from his seat beside the table, Emma took the opportunity to abandon her meal and she bounced up and out of her seat to get him. “Bottle is in his diaper bag, right?” Emma asked as she scooped Henry out of his seat and cooed softly to him, his cries dying.

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed from her seat still at the table.

 

Emma nodded but then paused, thinking twice about actually leaning over to get it from the bag on the ground. It was the kind of motion that might cause a wave of dizziness, something she wasn't willing to risk with Henry in her arms. She didn't really want to put him back down either.

 

Regina seemed to understand the dilemma though because she said, “Sit, I'll get it,” already pushing herself out of her chair.

 

Emma didn’t argue, just slid back into her chair at the table. She smiled appreciatively as Regina handed over the bottle, Regina’s hand running across Emma's back as she passed by to settle back into the seat beside Emma’s.

 

Emma shifted Henry carefully, giving him the bottle, which he immediately began guzzling. She watched him a few minutes before she looked up at the other occupants of the table.

 

Kathryn was watching her and when their eyes met, she smiled. “You know…” Kathryn said, her head tipping in Regina’s direction, “You should have told me you were going to adopt a baby and start dating. That's better PR than anything I could dream up. You didn't really need my help.”

 

Regina scoffed, shaking her head, “I’m not sure that's the kind of PR my mother had in mind when she called you.”

 

Kathryn laughed, “No, probably not.”

 

Emma's forehead scrunched up in confusion. She glanced at Frederick thinking he might be confused too but, if he was, he didn't look so. Emma glanced at Regina, her expression still conveying her confusion, “PR?”

 

Regina eyes widened slightly, looking almost startled, and she swallowed before she explained carefully, “I mentioned to my mother that I may consider running for congress someday. My mother, of course, took that to mean I was definitely running for congress in the next election and thought I needed a publicist if I was going to be successful. She called Kathryn.”

 

Emma tried to follow but she was still feeling confused. She glanced down at Henry, pulling the half finished bottle out his mouth and setting it on the table. He fussed a little as she raised him into a seated position, his head supported with one hand as she patted his back gently with the other so that he would burp. “I don't understand. You want to be a congresswoman?” Emma asked uncertainly as she continued to gently pat Henry’s back.

 

“No,” Regina shook her head, “Certainly not right now.”

 

Henry burped and Emma cooed at him, “Good boy,” before resettling him in her arms and bringing the bottle back to his lips. Satisfied that Henry was drinking okay, she looked back up, glancing between Regina and Kathryn, “I still don’t think I understand...if you don’t want to run for congress...then what's Kathryn helping with?”

 

Regina and Kathryn looked at each other and Emma could tell by the expression on Kathryn’s face that she was surprised that Emma didn’t already know whatever she was about to be told.

 

Regina ran a hand through her hair and explained, “Kathryn convinced me that even if I didn’t plan to run for congress a little PR might be beneficial to ensure that I won the next mayoral election. She suggested that most of the townspeople found me...aloof, I believe is the word she used.” She shot a look at Kathryn.

 

Kathryn pulled a face, mouthing ‘sorry’ at Regina, although managing to not look all that sorry.

 

“Okay…” Emma said slowly, finally sort of understanding. She glanced back down at Henry in her arms, he was almost done the bottle now. “So what PR have you done?” she asked.

 

Regina looked suddenly hesitant, uncertain, “Well...Kathryn suggested that some volunteer work might go a long way.”

 

 _Oh_. Emma looked up from Henry, glancing between Kathryn and Regina and then she couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Regina quirked a curious eyebrow at her but overall she seemed relieved. Emma could only guess that she hadn’t been sure how Emma would take the news that her stint as a cancer centre volunteer had been for the sake of PR.

 

Emma shook her head, still laughing lightly a moment longer. Henry finished his bottle and she set it on the table, lifting him back up so that she could burp him again. “Well…” she said, her words directed at Regina, “I guess this means Kathryn is kind of responsible for us meeting?” She looked around the table, her eyes settling on Kathryn, “So uh…thanks Kathryn.” She grinned, “If I'd known I would have brought you a thank you gift.”

 

Everyone else at the table laughed then too.  

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma rested her head against the window on the drive home from Kathryn and Frederick’s. It was still early but she was exhausted. Social interaction had sapped any reserve energy she had to spend on the day. Still looking out the window, watching Storybrooke pass by, Emma said, “Your mom sure likes to meddle, huh?”

 

Emma could feel Regina’s eyes on her and she pulled her head off the window so that she could look over to meet curious brown eyes.

 

“Yes…” Regina said carefully, her eyes turning back to the road.

 

They rode in silence a moment and then Regina was looking over at Emma again, almost suspiciously, “Are you just talking about her calling Kathryn?”

 

Emma tried to ignore the scrutinizing gaze, shrugging, “Yeah.”

 

It wasn’t convincing enough though because Regina quirked an eyebrow at her as she turned onto Mifflin Street. “ _Emma_ ,” she said knowingly.

 

Emma squirmed in her seat as they turned into the driveway. She hadn’t really meant to bring this up. She just hadn’t been thinking. This was what happened when she was exhausted.

 

Regina turned off the car and unsnapped her seatbelt, spinning in her seat to face Emma, eyeing her even more carefully than before. “Tell me what she did,” Regina said evenly, her words so serious, so knowing.  

 

Emma swallowed, unsnapping her own seatbelt, “It’s not a big deal.” There was no sense denying that Cora _had_ done something because Regina so clearly already knew.

 

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina quirked an eyebrow at her again.

 

Emma rubbed the back of her neck, “She just said some stuff.”

 

“What _stuff,”_ Regina implored, clearly not willing to accept anything but the full truth.

 

Emma sighed, “Just that you wouldn’t break up with me because you couldn’t see what was good for you and Henry and that what was good for you and Henry _wasn’t_ me. It’s not a big deal.”

 

Regina’s jaw tightened and anger flashed through her eyes like flickering flames. “So when I told her there was no way I was leaving you, she tried to convince _you_ to break up with me instead?” she asked tightly.

 

Emma shrugged her shoulders, “Yeah. But...I mean...it didn’t work. _Obviously_.”

 

“Emma…” Regina sighed softly, reaching across the divide between them and settling a hand on her shoulder, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Emma looked away from Regina, staring at her feet as she ran a hand over the top of her head, the feeling of the smoothness under her fingertips still impossibly odd, even after months. Emma looked up from her feet and back over at Regina but she just shrugged not sure what to say.

 

Something knowing flickered through Regina’s eyes and she said certainly, “Because you believed her.”

 

Emma sighed, seeing no choice but to confirm, “Yes. I believed her _at the time_.”

 

“And _now_?” Regina asked softly, nothing but compassion in her eyes now.

 

Emma swallowed thickly, considering her response. “I’m working on it,” she finally said, deciding the truth was better than platitude. And she _was_ working on it. It wasn’t easy to erase feelings of not being enough. Those feelings didn’t just magically vanish because Regina had said she loved her. Not when Emma had been _not enough_ long before cancer. _Not Enough_ could probably be the title of her autobiography, she thought.

 

Regina rubbed Emma’s shoulder gently. “You _are_ good for Henry and I. More than good,” she said certainly.

 

“I know you think so,” Emma’s words were nearly whispered. And she did know. Regina made sure she did all the time.

 

Regina smiled gently at her, “I want _you_ to think so too.”

 

Emma tilted her head, studying Regina carefully, silent a long moment. “I didn’t leave you,” was what she said when she finally did speak. And it wasn’t quite a response to what Regina had said but, in a way, it also was. Because it would have been so easy to run. She was good at running. But she hadn’t. And _that_ meant something.  

 

Regina smiled again, so gentle and understanding, “I know.”

 

Emma smiled too, and suddenly unable to contain herself, she leaned over and pressed her lips to Regina’s, a hand reaching up and tangling in Regina’s dark hair as they deepened the kiss.

 

Eventually Emma pulled back, panting hard, her forehead resting against Regina’s, green eyes staring directly into brown owns. “I didn’t leave you,” she repeated her previous words more firmly, but then her voice got soft, quiet, “I didn’t leave you because...I-” the words nearly stuck in her throat like they had so many times before, but unlike all of those previous times, she just couldn’t seem to contain them anymore. It didn’t even matter that this wasn’t at all how she knew you were supposed to say these things. It didn’t matter that there was nothing romantic about sitting in the car in the dark in their driveway. What mattered was that her heart was racing impossibly fast and her breath was still just a little too ragged and those three little words that she’d never said to anyone before refused to be contained, escaping as a gentle whisper. “I love you.”

 

“I know,” Regina whispered back just as gently, “I love you too.”

 

They kissed again.

 

xxxxxx

 

“I can’t believe I’m starting back to work in two days,” Regina said the following night, lying in bed beside Emma.

 

“I know,” Emma agreed, rolling over and shuffling in the bed so that she was closer to Regina. She draped an arm across Regina’s stomach, settling her head on her chest, content to listen to the sound of Regina’s heart beating in her ear for awhile. But she had other ideas, and eventually she propped herself up, turning her head just enough so that she could press soft kisses into Regina’s collarbone and up the side of her neck, nibbling on her ear lobe ever so gently.

 

Regina moaned softly as Emma’s lips moved from her ear across her jawline over to her lips. Emma’s tongue darted out and pushed into Regina’s mouth as she readjusted her position on the bed, tangling one of her legs with Regina’s, a hand reaching up to cup one of Regina’s breasts through her silk pajama top.

 

Regina moaned louder into the kiss and Emma moved her hand so that she could slip it under Regina’s pajama top. She palmed Regina’s breasts without the obstruction of the top material now, rolling one nipple, and then the other, between her fingertips.

 

Regina kissed Emma more urgently then, moving almost restlessly against Emma. Emma moved  her hand again, sliding it down the plane of Regina’s stomach and stopping at the waistband of Regina’s pajama bottoms. She slid her fingers just under the waistband and stilled her hand, pulling back from the kiss just enough so that she could look Regina in the eye, looking for permission.

 

There seemed to be a question in Regina’s eyes but Emma wasn’t quite sure what that question was. “Okay?” Emma asked, her hand dipping just a little lower.

 

Regina’s pupils were already wide but they dilated further at the question and all she seemed to be able to do was nod her head, yes.

 

Emma smiled as she crashed their lips back together and she slid her hand lower, dipping into Regina’s underwear, stroking gently and then more firmly through the wetness she found there, over and over and over, until Regina was panting hard, breaking their kiss to call out, “Emma,” her whole body shuddering as she came undone.

 

Emma continued to stroke Regina gently through the orgasm until Regina pushed lightly on her arm, clearly too sensitive for any more, and Emma withdrew her hand. She rolled off of Regina and over onto her back. She was panting harder than Regina was. Trying to catch her breath, she closed her eyes and took slow, nearly gasping breaths, her heart racing almost painfully against her rib cage.

 

When Emma blinked her eyes back open, Regina was staring down at her, that same question from before in her eyes again, except for now Emma understood what it was. “Are you okay?” Regina asked carefully.

 

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded, not trusting her pitiful lung capacity to allow her to say anything else quite yet.

 

Regina seemed uncertain by the reply but she leaned over and pressed gentle kisses to Emma’s jawline. “That was…incredible,” she said almost breathlessly between kisses.

 

Emma smiled a small smile even though she doubted that was really true. She really did want it to be _incredible_ for Regina. But she knew that she was currently woefully limited in capability. Her still heaving chest was proof of that.

 

Regina seemed to sense her unease, because she stopped kissing Emma’s jaw line, propping herself up on an elbow so that she could kiss one eyelid and then the other. Then she kissed Emma’s forehead, “Whatever self doubting thing you’re thinking in that pretty little head of yours. Stop it.”

 

Emma sighed softly, her heart rate and breathing finally starting to return to normal, her eyes fluttering closed as Regina kissed her forehead again and then moved back to kissing along her jawline and down her neck. Emma’s eyes flew back open though when one of Regina’s hands settled on her hip bone, dancing slowly towards the waistband of her pajama pants. She reached down and caught Regina’s wrist before her hand could reach its destination.

 

Regina froze, sitting up so that she could catch Emma’s eyes, the question written all over her face, “What’s wrong?”

 

Emma gnawed her lip, her cheeks flushing as Regina continued to stare at her, “I don’t think...I’m not…” she didn’t know how to explain this. It was a little mortifying, even if Regina sort of already knew. “I’m in menopause,” she sighed, as if that explained anything.

 

Regina’s forehead scrunched up in confusion. She was still watching Emma with so much concern, “Okay?” It was more of a question than anything. She settled a hand back on Emma’s hip, stroking the protruding bone through the fabric of Emma’s pajama pants gently, reverently, “If you don’t want me to touch you, that’s okay. You can say so. You know that, right?”

 

Emma flushed a deeper shade of red, “I just…”

 

“Just what?” Regina prodded gently, studying Emma so seriously, her fingers still stroking oh so gently against Emma’s hip bone.

 

“I don’t know if I can. You know. I think it would be too difficult. I don’t want you to have to…” Emma rambled incoherently. Knowing she wasn’t making any sense. The problem was that menopause was awful. Menopause coupled with cancer exhaustion was double awful. Like. She _loved_ kissing Regina. It definitely turned her on. But, where before stupid cancer, and stupid chemo, and stupid menopause, just the sight of Regina would probably be enough to have her dripping, now it was like the bloody Sahara Desert down there. She didn’t know how to tell Regina that though. It was mortifying.

 

Regina was still staring at her with that same much too serious expression, like she wished she could see into Emma’s brain. “Emma, I’d really like to know whatever it is you’re thinking right now,” Regina said gently.

 

This would be easier if Regina would just let it go and curl up beside her and go to sleep. But of course that was too much to ask. Because she had a caring supportive girlfriend who just wanted to be caring and supportive. Emma sighed heavily but then she decided it was probably better to just get it out before Regina got the wrong idea. “I just don’t know if I can...come. Because of the menopause. Things are just weird.”

 

Regina’s eyes widened slightly in understanding. “Okay,” she said carefully, understanding replaced quickly with worry, as she suddenly looked almost ill, “Is...is it not enjoyable for you? When we kiss?”

 

“No, no, that’s not it,” Emma rushed out, shaking her rapidly as she propped herself up on her elbows. She was fucking this up. “I love kissing you. It’s great. So great. Like the best kissing ever. My favourite.” Those weren't lies.

 

Regina sighed in what seemed to be immense relief at Emma’s earnest over-selling. “Okay, good,” she nodded, almost to herself.

 

“Yes, kissing is good,” Emma agreed with a smile, lying herself back down on the bed.

 

Seeming to take that as a request, Regina moved back up the bed to press her lips to Emma’s, kissing her softly and then nibbling gently on her lower lip and Emma sighed contently. Regina’s eyes dipped to Emma’s chest, a hand reaching up to brush feather light against some skin exposed by Emma’s askew pajama top, “Does it hurt?”

 

“What?” Emma asked confused until her eyes dipped to see the place Regina was touching. Regina’s fingers were resting over the tube that snaked up under Emma’s skin from her port to the vein in her neck. The tube was visible like a wire coiled under her skin. “No,” Emma shook her head, her eyes closing, “It doesn’t hurt. I can’t even tell you’re touching it. I don’t like to touch it myself though. It feels weird when I do.”

 

Regina’s fingers stroked gently over it, just barely touching it, ghosting over it really, tracing its path down to press gently against the bump that was the actual port device under Emma’s skin. Regina lowered her head and pressed a butterfly kiss to the raised bump that was Emma’s port and then she moved up higher and pressed a soft kiss to Emma’s cheek. Emma felt hot breath near her ear and then Regina was whispering, “Can I take your shirt off?”

 

Emma blinked her eyes back open, studying Regina almost confused. She’d thought her explanation about the stupid menopause, and her uncertainty about her body’s ability to function correctly, would have made Regina give up. Apparently not. “Okay,” she said carefully, hesitantly, sitting up so that Regina could help her tug her shirt over her head. Like Regina, she didn’t have a bra on under her pajama top and Emma swallowed thickly as Regina eyed her bare chest.

 

At Regina’s urging, Emma laid back down on the bed. She twitched uncomfortably as one of Regina’s hands skittered down her neck towards her left breast and Regina instantly stilled the motion, quirking an uncertain eyebrow, wanting to know what had bothered Emma.

 

“Nerve damage,” Emma explained quietly, “From the biopsy. It tingles when you touch.” Her own hand reached up, fingers brushing against the long scar itself.

 

Regina eyed her seriously, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Emma’s lips before she sat back up and said, “Show me where the tingling starts and stop.”

 

“Umm…” Emma wasn’t really sure herself. After a moment of hesitation, she reached up with her hand and circled Regina’s wrist carefully, tugging gently and dragging Regina’s hand slowly across the sensitive skin up to her scar, just above the line she stopped, “It stops there.”

 

“Okay,” Regina nodded, her fingers tracing the length of the scar but just above it, where Emma’s skin didn’t tingle. She bent her lips and pressed a row of soft kisses to the same place. “Where else does it stop?” she asked.

 

Emma reached for Regina’s wrist again and dragged it sideways. The tingling extended all the way to her shoulder, and she finally stilled Regina’s hand when her fingers were on her left arm, “There.”

 

“Okay,” Regina smiled softly, pressing a kiss to that place.

 

Emma dragged Regina’s hand back across her front to the place where the tingling ended on the other side. It didn’t spread quite so far on the right side and she stopped the movement of Regina’s hand just under her collarbone and just above the swell of her left breast, “And there.”

 

Regina smiled softly again, kissing that place too and then pressing kisses lower and lower, until she was laving Emma’s nipple with her tongue, encapsulating the peak with her warm mouth and sucking.

 

Emma moaned softly as Regina moved from the left breast towards the right, pressing soft kisses in the valley between her breasts, before circling the right nipple with her tongue, paying just as much attention to it as she had the left.

 

Eventually Regina moved away from Emma’s breasts, placing a flurry of kisses along every inch of exposed skin on her abdomen. When her head moved lower, pressing kisses just above the waistband of Emma’s pajama bottoms, Regina looked up to meet Emma’s eyes, “Do you want me to stop?”

 

“No,” Emma breathed out and she lifted her hips so that Regina could pull her pajama pants and her underwear off.

 

Emma saw the slight hitch of Regina’s eyebrows as she took in her complete nakedness and Emma couldn’t help the twitch of a smile at Regina’s slight surprise. She was completely bare - because hair was hair and she'd lost it all.

 

Regina looked up at Emma once more, confirming again with her eyes that this was okay, and then slowly she lowered her mouth to Emma's most sensitive part, licking slowly, gently, with so much care.

 

Regina reached one hand up the bed without ceasing her ministrations. Her hand fumbling against the sheets a moment until she found Emma's hand. Regina laced their fingers together, squeezing Emma's hand tightly, as she continued to lick and suck.

 

It was slow and then fast and then slow again, and oh so patient, as Emma's moans grew slowly and steadily until she was gasping out, “Regina, Regina, Regina,” squeezing the hand that still held hers like a lifeline, and finally tumbling over the edge.

 

Emma was still panting lightly moments later when Regina’s arms were wrapping tightly around her, pulling Emma close to her body and pressing kisses into the crook of her neck, murmuring, “I love you.”

 

The light panting was ceasing and Emma's eyes were fluttering closed, a mixture of pure bliss and exhaustion tugging her urgently towards unconsciousness. “I love you,” Emma mumbled her response, a smile tugging at her lips as she tried unsuccessfully to force her eyes back open.

 

The last thing she remembered before dream land claimed her was Regina voice whispering in her ear, “Sleep.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Monday, Regina’s first day back at work, came much too quickly for Regina’s liking. Regina was surprised at how difficult it truly was to leave Henry and Emma to come to Town Hall. For so many years her job had been _everything_ . But now her _everything_ was back at home.

 

She’d only been at Town Hall a few hours but she was already debating ducking out and heading home for a short break when her cellphone buzzed. She opened the message and couldn’t contain the smile that broke out on her face. It was a message from Emma.

 

_Hope you’re having a good day so far. xo._

 

The phone buzzed again and this time a picture came through. It was of Henry and Emma, lying side by side on the bed. They were _both_ smiling - Henry with his wide gummy baby smile and Emma with a bright smile that made her eyes shine. Regina’s own smile widened at the sight.

 

She was still smiling dopily at the phone when Susan poked her head into the room, asking if she wanted a coffee. Regina swallowed, setting the phone down on her desk, “Yes please, Susan, that would be great,” she agreed and her secretary nodded and disappeared to fetch the coffee.

 

Regina glanced back over at the phone, the picture still up on the screen - this was most definitely going to become her phone background.

 

It was exactly what she needed to make it through the rest of the morning.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina had two different meetings that afternoon and by the time the second one ended it was thankfully time to head home. Receiving the picture earlier had been nice - but she was ready to actually be home with Henry and Emma now.

 

The house was oddly quiet when she came in through the front door and she found herself feeling oddly disappointed. It wasn’t exactly that she’d expected Emma and Henry to be waiting for her but she’d expected to come home to a house filled with _some_ noise. This was too quiet, too reminiscent of all of the days for years and years when she’d come home to an empty house, all alone.

 

She left her briefcase in the entryway and moved carefully through the house, searching for her girlfriend and her son. She found them in the living room.

 

Emma on her back on the couch, Henry lying on his stomach on her chest, both of Emma’s arms wrapped protectively around him.

 

They were both sound asleep.

 

Regina’s heart fluttered.

 

Yes, it was quiet. But she’d been wrong, _this_ was not the kind of quiet she’d come home to for years. This was a peaceful kind of quiet.

 

Regina smiled fondly at her two favourite people in the entire world. She ran a gently hand along the top of Henry’s head and leaned down to press the softest of kisses to the top of Emma’s head, not wanting to wake either of them, but unable to keep herself from reaching out to them.

 

She watched them a moment longer and then she slipped out of the room and into the kitchen to start making dinner.

 

xxxxxx

 

Two days later, Emma and Regina stepped into the elevator at the cancer centre, Regina pressing the button for the chemo floor. They were the only two people in the elevator today and Regina used the opportunity to wrap her arms around Emma’s waist, pulling her close and pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss.

 

Emma sighed contently, her forehead resting against Regina’s a moment even after they’d finished kissing, straightening only when the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival on the chemo floor.  “That’s the way to get someone to love you forever, you know,” she said as they stepped out of the elevator.  

 

Regina couldn’t deny the way her heart did a flip at the way Emma, who had struggled to say _I love you_ , now said _love you forever_ like it was no big deal. She quirked an amused eyebrow, asking, “How’s that?”

 

“Kissing them in an elevator on the way up to a chemo floor,” Emma grinned at her, as if that should have been obvious.

 

“Yes. That was my master plan all along,” Regina said in faux-seriousness.

 

Emma laughed, reaching over and lacing her fingers with Regina’s, “Well it was a success.”

 

It was the kind of teasing that also held truth and Regina couldn’t help but smile, “Good.”

 

xxxxxx

 

August came to Storybrooke to visit on Emma’s good Saturday following chemo treatment 6A. Regina stayed home with Henry and they headed to Granny’s.

 

Sitting across from her in one of the booths at Granny’s, August took a sip of his coffee and then asked, “So you’ve only got one treatment left, huh?”

 

“Yes,” Emma nodded, picking slowly at the bear claw Ruby had brought her, “I sort of can’t believe it. It feels like it was forever ago that I had that first chemo.”

 

August nodded knowingly, “The finish line kind of sneaks up on you. It’s the only thing you think about for months. Like a countdown. But then it’s there and....” he trailed off, not really finishing the thought.

Emma regarded him a moment and then she asked carefully, “What’s it like? Finishing treatment?”

 

August titled his head and Emma could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he seemed to contemplate something. “It’s like turning on a light switch after you’ve been in the dark long enough for your eyes to adjust to the lack of light,” he said finally, “You know what that’s like, right? The light is so blinding at first. Blinding enough that it seems like you’re actually seeing less than you could when it was dark. And for a second you wonder if it was better to just be in the dark. But then slowly your eyes adjust. And you can see again. Better. Because it’s light now, not dark.”

 

It was clearly an analogy that he’d thought a lot about and the honesty of it really struck Emma. She swallowed and found herself admitting, “It’s sort of scary, thinking about just...being done. Like. After next Wednesday. There’s no more chemo. And I can’t wait for the feeling better part. Because, like, I’m so over it. I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired. But at the same time...no more chemo means that it will be just me and my body fighting the good fight. And. Let’s be honest here. Last time my body was in charge it did a pretty piss poor job of managing things…” she trailed off. This was something she’d been thinking about quite a lot lately but hadn’t been able to figure out quite how to say it out loud. There was something about saying it to a person who might understand, who might really get it, in a way that no one else could, that made the words tumble out.   

 

August nodded, his hands wrapping around his coffee mug. “I wish I could say that the scary part gets better right away. But, honestly, I was more scared after I finished chemo both times, then I was during. It’s kind of what I meant by the whole turning on the light thing. When you’re in treatment, it’s like you’re so focused on getting through it _physically_ , that you just sort of push off all of the other stuff until afterwards. And then treatment is over and you start to recover...slowly, mind you, because you _never_ recover as fast as you think you will...but you do recover and then what you’re left with is all those thought and feelings you pushed away.”

 

Emma sighed, offering sarcastically, “You always have the most inspiring things to say.”

 

August chuckled, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you any more than you were already feeling. I just...I wasn’t prepared the first time I finished chemo. I thought I’d just hit some pause button on my life and I’d finish treatment and un-hit that pause button and everything would go back to the way it was before. I wish someone had told me that’s not how it works. That there was no pause button. Life was still moving forward the whole time.”

 

Emma considered that a moment. It was easy to believe what he was saying. Sometimes she could barely remember who _Emma before Cancer_ was anymore. She didn’t doubt that _Emma before Cancer_ didn’t exist anymore. Didn’t doubt that _Emma before Cancer_ had ceased to exist that day so many months ago when the word cancer had first been uttered at her. That thought might have upset her even just a few months ago but now she wasn’t so sure. “To be honest,” she admitted to August, “I don’t really want to go back to my life before cancer anyway.”

 

“Yeah, fair point,” August chuckled, “It’s a pretty sweet little family you’ve got yourself now. I wouldn’t want to trade the wife or the baby back in either.”

 

“She’s not my wife,” Emma narrowed her eyes playfully in his direction.

 

August chuckled a little louder, “If you say so.”

 

Emma shook her head at him but she didn’t correct him a second time. Maybe, if she was lucky, someday Regina _would_ be her wife.  

 

They lapsed into silence, Emma picking at her bear claw some more and August sipping his coffee.

 

August was the one who finally broke the silence, “You should tell her.”

 

Emma eyed him quizzically.

 

“Regina,” August clarified, “you should tell her how you feel about crossing the chemo finish line. Talking about it helps.”

 

xxxxxx

 

It took up until the night before her last chemo treatment for Emma to actually broach the subject with Regina. They were doing the dinner dishes, Emma washing, while Regina dried.  

 

“I can’t believe tomorrow’s the last one,” Emma said as she rinsed a plate.

 

“I know,” Regina agreed putting away a glass, “It’s great.”

 

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded, handing the rinsed plate to Regina, “Great. And…” she swallowed, “kinda scary?” It came out almost like a question.

 

Regina paused the drying motion she’d been in the middle of, the tea towel resting ineffectively against the plate, water dripping onto the ground as she studied Emma. “Scary how?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Emma shrugged, gnawing her lip a moment. It had been easier to explain to August. What if Regina thought she was being ridiculous? “Just...chemo got rid of the cancer. But what if...it didn’t really get rid of it so much as it is just sort of kept it at bay. And what if...no chemo means…”

 

Regina’s eyes widened in understanding, “What if you relapse?” The question was so quiet, almost a whisper, as if saying those words out loud might make them true.

 

“Yeah,” Emma sighed softly.

 

Regina set the plate onto the counter, dropping the tea towel on top of it as well. She reached for Emma’s wrist, tugging on it gently, “Come here.”

 

Emma let herself be pulled closer to Regina, let Regina wrap her up into a tight hug, and she buried her head into the crook of Regina’s neck, dark hair tickling against her nose.

 

Regina rubbed Emma’s back in a gentle pattern, admitting quietly, “I’m scared about that too.”

 

“You are?” Emma mumbled into Regina’s shoulder, surprised.

 

“Of course I am,” Regina said as if that should be obvious. Her hand continued to rub the gentle pattern across Emma’s back as added, “But your doctor thinks that this is enough treatment. So I just...I try to believe that. And I remind myself that...if it isn’t,” Regina’s voice hitched, as if she were struggling with just the thought. She took a moment to collect herself and then she finished strongly, “No matter what happens in the future. We’ll get through it together.”

 

Emma’s eyes were suddenly moist and she buried her head deeper into the crook of Regina’s neck, her voice cracking as she got out an, “O-okay.”

 

Regina held her impossibly tighter, kissing the side of her head and murmuring, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Emma sighed into Regina’s neck.    

 

xxxxxx

 

At the cancer centre the next day, Emma paused outside the front doors, looking up at the building a long moment.

 

Regina stood beside her, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. “Ready?” she asked with so much care.

 

Emma swallowed, tearing her eyes away from the building to look over at Regina. “Yes,” she nodded.

 

She was. She was ready to cross this finish line. She was so ready to be done with chemo. And with Regina’s hand in hers as she walked into the building, she suddenly wasn’t quite so scared about what might come next.

 

xxxxxx

 

A while later up in the chemo suite, Mary Margaret set the drip rate for the Dacarbazine - the very last chemo drug Emma would hopefully _ever_ have to get. It was a nearly surreal moment.

 

“This is it,” Mary Margaret said, “The last one.” She smiled at Emma, glancing between her and Regina, and suggesting, “You should take a picture to commemorate the moment.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure she really needed a picture of herself looking pale and awful, even if it was hopefully the very last time she would have to look pale and awful, but Regina seemed to agree because she was already pulling out her phone.

 

“Here,” Mary Margaret held out her hand, “Give it to me. That way you can both be in the picture.”

 

Regina looked uncertain and Emma said in her grumbliest voice, “If I have to be in this picture, so do you.”

 

Regina shook her head in amusement at Emma, smiling as she handed over the phone to Mary Margaret to take their picture.

 

Regina showed Emma the picture after Mary Margaret handed the phone back. Emma had been right - she looked pale and awful even with a smile on her face. Regina, on the other hand, looked perfect, of course.

 

“I’m going to frame it,” Regina said, still smiling as she slid her phone back into her purse.

 

Emma didn’t bother to protest. She doubted it was an argument she would win. It didn’t matter that she looked awful in the picture, after all - it was what the photo represented.

 

xxxxxx

 

The next five weeks passed slowly. August had most definitely been correct - recovery was a slow process. Emma still couldn’t walk further than Granny’s without being too out of breath to function, she still slept ten or more hours a day, and the chemo induced menopause was still in full swing. But in five weeks, she hadn’t set foot in the cancer centre once, and that was a nice change.

 

That would change tomorrow. Tomorrow they were going to the cancer centre to find out the results of the CT scan and the PET scan she’d had the previous week. Emma was trying not to worry about what those results might show but that was, of course, easier said than done.

 

She was currently curled up against Regina on the couch. They were watching a movie but Emma couldn’t even remember the name of the main character, that was how little she was paying attention to the TV.

 

Regina seemed to sense that Emma was distracted because she reached for the remote and paused the movie, glancing over at Emma, “You aren’t watching this, are you?”

 

Emma sat up, shrugging, not admitting it but not denying it either.

 

Regina reached over and settled a hand on her knee, “Thinking about tomorrow?”

 

Emma just shrugged again.

 

“So, yes?” Regina smiled knowingly.

 

Emma shrugged a third time but she smiled almost sheepishly back at Regina.

 

Regina squeezed her knee, “It’s okay to be nervous.”

 

“Are _you_ nervous?” Emma asked, gnawing on her lip.

 

“Yes,” Regina confirmed easily, “But I’m trying not to think too hard about it.”

 

“Yeah…” Emma sighed.

 

Regina squeezed her knee again, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Before tomorrow.”

 

Emma stiffened a bit, her head tilting as she studied Regina uncertainly, “About what?”

 

“About you living here,” Regina said.

 

Emma blinked slowly, a hand reaching up to brush across the fine hair that was just starting to grow back on top of her head. It was so soft, like Henry’s. “O-okay,” she stammered out, still not completely sure she knew where this was going.

 

“I know when you moved in we said it would just be until you finished treatment…” Regina suddenly looked almost nervous, “But I...I don’t want you to move out. No matter what happens tomorrow. Whether we hear the news we want to hear. Or if…” she trailed off, not voicing the fear out loud, swallowing instead, “Either way. I want you to stay with us. Permanently.” Regina still looked nervous and before Emma could get a word in edgewise, she began to ramble in the way she rarely did, “If you want to that is. And I know once you’re feeling better, you’re going to want to work again. But Boston isn’t so far. And as a bail bondsperson you can really be based anywhere. And I also know that a deputy position will be coming available at the Storybrooke police station within the next year because one of the guys is slated to retire. So if you ever wanted to consider a career change, there would also be that option...”

 

“Are you done?” Emma couldn’t help but quirk a just-starting-to-grow-in eyebrow at Regina, barely capable of containing her amusement.

 

“Yes,” Regina’s eyes narrowed playfully at her.

 

“Okay then,” Emma grinned.

 

“Okay then?” It was Regina’s turn to quirk an eyebrow.

 

Emma laughed lightly, her eyes twinkling, “Yes. Of course it’s a yes. Of course I want to stay here with you and with Henry. I love you both. You’re...” Emma swallowed thickly, the next words catching in her throat but she forced them out, quietly, “You’re my family.”

 

Regina smiled then, so lovingly, so fondly. “We are,” she agreed, her hand leaving Emma’s knee to reach up and cup her cheek again, the pad of her thumb running along Emma’s jaw line as she repeated, “We are.”

 

Emma smiled, closing the space between them and pressing her lips tenderly against Regina’s.

 

It wasn’t long before the kiss became more urgent.

 

xxxxxx   

 

Since Emma wouldn’t have to set foot in the chemo suite, they brought Henry with them to the cancer centre the next day. Regina held him on her lap in the exam room they were waiting in, while Emma’s leg bounced nervously, up and down and up and down, in the chair beside her. She wished she could wipe Emma’s anxiety away but there was really nothing she could do. There was only one thing that would cure Emma’s nerves - it was the door opening and someone coming in to tell them the verdict.

 

From his seat in Regina’s lap, Henry gurgled gibberish, waving his arms around.

 

Emma’s knee continued to bounce but she turned her head away from the spot she’d been staring at on the wall to look over at Henry. She smiled fondly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Henry’s cheek, which only made his waving arms flail harder. Emma smiled a little wider, “Well I’m glad _someone_ is having a good time here.”

 

Before Regina could say anything the door swung open and they both froze, heads turning slowly towards the entrance.

 

“Hi,” Belle greeted as she stepped into the room, Emma’s chart under her arm, “How are you?”

 

The question was directed at both of them but it was Emma who answered with an almost gulp, “Alright.”

 

Belle smiled, settling herself into a chair across from them, “Let me guess. A bit nervous?”

 

Emma shrugged but Belle wasn’t looking at her, she was looking at Regina who nodded almost imperceptibly.

 

“I’m just going to cut right to the chase because I'm sure you want to know,” Belle said, “Your scans were clear.”

 

“C-clear?” Emma’s face was suddenly unreadable as she stuttered the word out.

 

“Yes,” Belle smiled, nodding her head as she glanced quickly over at Regina and then back at Emma, “You’re cancer free.”

 

Regina was already smiling and she watched Emma, waiting for her reaction.

 

The smile that spread slowly, lighting up Emma’s face, as the news seemed to really sink in, was the brightest smile Regina had ever seen Emma give.

 

“Really?” Emma’s voice was quiet, the word almost disbelieving, even as the smile continued to spread.

 

“Yes,” Belle confirmed again.

 

Emma was looking over at Regina now, the smile impossibly wider, her eyes bright and shinning. “Cancer free,” she whispered the words, as if testing them out.

 

“Cancer free,” Regina repeated back to her, the feeling of elation that settled in her chest nearly overwhelming. She leaned over and pressed her lips quickly to Emma’s, not really caring that Belle was still in the room. She wanted to jump up and spin Emma around in circles. She wanted to scream the news from rooftops.

 

Emma laughed as she pulled back from Regina, actually laughed, and the sound was like music to Regina’s ears.

 

Emma was cancer free.

 

xxxxxx

 

Not long after that, once Dr. Eldridge had been in to talk to them as well, they were walking back out the front doors of the cancer centre.

 

The sun was shining and Emma was _still_ grinning. _Cancer free_. She was officially cancer free. It almost felt surreal but in the best possible way. She felt so light. Like she might just be able to fly if she tried. She’d never been so thrilled in her entire life.

 

They paused just outside the doors of the cancer centre. Regina glanced down at Henry in the stroller and then over at Emma. “What do you want to do now?” she asked.

 

Emma squinted into the sun a moment, and then she looked back at Regina. “Honestly?” she said, “I just want to go home.”

 

“Okay,” Regina smiled, “Let’s go home.”

 

Emma didn’t know what would come next but, in this moment, she didn't particularly care. She was leaving the cancer centre, bolstered by the news that she was cancer free, to head home with her family. In an odd sort of way, it felt like an ending and a beginning.

 

_Home. Family._

 

It was a beginning Emma had never dreamed possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...somehow just like that we're at the end. This was a difficult chapter to write, mostly because I think I wasn't quite ready for this fic to be done. Thank you so much for all of your support throughout. This was a story that I wanted very badly to tell, even though I wasn't 100% confident in my ability to do it properly, so having your continued support throughout has meant quite a lot to me.
> 
> Although this is the end (or the beginning as Emma called it), I do have a short epilogue planned. So be on the lookout for that, likely sometime next week! :)


	13. Epilogue

_Five Years Later_

 

It was a Saturday afternoon in May and Regina stood at the island in the kitchen of the manor, carefully icing the chocolate cake in front of her with homemade buttercream, coloured lavender.

 

She heard the pattering of little feet and she looked up just in time to see five year old Henry enter the kitchen, his stuffed rabbit tucked under his arm. It was the same stuffed rabbit that Emma had brought to the manor as a gift just after Regina had adopted Henry. It was a little worse for wear these days. Numerous washes had taken away the softness of its fur, both of its arms had had to be sewn back on, and it had lost one of its glass eyes at some point. But _Bunny_ , as he called the stuffed animal, was Henry’s most treasured possession. Now that Henry was in kindergarten, Bunny left the house less often than it used to, but inside the house, Henry almost always had it with him.   

 

“What are we doing?” Henry asked as he bounded over to the island, clamoring up onto one of the kitchen stools. Sitting on his knees on the stool, he flopped Bunny onto the counter and grinned at his mother.

 

Regina couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face at the way he said _we_ , as if there was no doubt in his mind that whatever was going on in the kitchen, it was something he would get to help with. “Decorating a cake.”

 

“Is it my birthday?” Henry grinned hopefully.

 

Regina laughed, “Henry, you know it’s not your birthday. Your birthday was four months ago.”

 

Henry shrugged, unbothered, bouncing on his knees in the chair, “Can I have cake _now_.”

 

“No, you may not,” Regina shook her head at him and when he pouted she quirked an eyebrow.

 

The look was enough to keep from asking again but he sighed in the exaggerated way only a five year old could, “But I like cake.”

 

Regina shook her head, “I know you do. But this is a special cake that we’re going to have after dinner.”

 

That piqued Henry’s curiosity and he bounced in the chair again, “Special? How come it’s special?”

 

Regina smiled, “It’s special because it’s a special day for mama.”

 

“Her birthday?” Henry guessed excitedly.

 

Regina laughed, “No, it’s not her birthday.”

 

“Oh,” Henry shrugged his little shoulders at the answer. “But why is it special?” He asked with wide hazel eyes staring directly at her.

 

 _But why_. Henry’s favourite two words since practically the moment he started speaking. Always so curious about everything. Regina set down the spatula she was holding and moved around the island, stopping beside the stool Henry was perched on. She brushed shaggy brown hair out of his eyes - he really needed a haircut - and smiled at him, “You remember how when you were just a little baby, mama was sick?”

 

Henry nodded seriously, and then added with just a little too much enthusiasm, “And she had no hair!”

 

“Yes,” Regina chuckled lightly.

 

Family photos from the period when Emma was sick and Henry was first adopted were the real reason Henry even knew that his other mother had ever been sick. His curiosity about where Emma's hair was in those photos hadn't been sated by the silly answers Emma would come up with (the wind blew it all away, there was an accident with the lawnmower, I lent it to a bald guy who’s head was cold) and eventually, after agonizing over the best way to explain without frightening him, they'd sat him down and told him as simply as possible why Emma _actually_ had no hair in those photos.

 

Henry had responded by flinging his little arms around Emma's neck and pressing a million slobbery kisses to her face until both he and Emma were giggling.

 

“What was that for?” Emma had asked, when he'd finally stopped. He'd still been in her lap and she'd kissed his cheek.

 

“Keep you all better now,” he'd said with four year old innocence.

 

Emma had held him a little tighter, kissing his cheek another time, and had confirmed, “I _am_ all better buddy.” She'd met Regina’s eyes over the little boy’s head and Regina hadn't been surprised at all by the glistening she’d seen in green eyes - her own eyes had certainly not been dry.

Regina shook her head, shaking away the memory.

 

Henry was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for the rest of the answer, and Regina added, “Well today is the anniversary of the day that mama stopped being sick. Do you know what anniversary means?”

 

Henry’s little forehead scrunched up as he thought hard. After a moment he beamed at his mother, “Like a birthday!”

 

Regina laughed, “Yes, I suppose.” Or at least close enough for a five year old’s understanding. They actually tended to refer to the day jokingly as Emma's Cancerversary. They usually celebrated quietly though, without much fanfare, just her and Emma. Regina had never made a cake before but this was 5 years and that meant something. Something important. 5 years meant they were now allowed to use the word _cured_ . And she knew that 5 years wasn't a guarantee but it was pretty close, as close as it was ever going to get. Today was a day that Regina had looked forward to for many years. Even just thinking _cured_ made her heart do an ecstatic flip. It was an important milestone that she wasn't just going to let pass by.

 

Henry grinned wider, “I'm gonna make a card for mama’s birthday of not being sick.”

 

“I think that's a great idea,” Regina smiled, ruffling his hair as he climbed down off the stool to go and get crayons and paper.

 

xxxxxx

 

Henry was seated at the island, scribbling away on his card, his tongue stuck out in concentration, and Regina was just putting the finishing touches on the cake - a light layer of tacky rainbow sprinkles, which had become an odd family custom since that time Emma had made her a birthday cake of brownies, whipped cream, and sprinkles - when Regina heard the front door open and close.

 

A few minutes later, Emma was stepping into the kitchen, her deputy badge still affixed to her hip. “Hello family,” she greeted with a grin.

 

“Mama!” Henry practically cheered, pushing himself up so that he was now standing on the kitchen stool.

 

“Henry sit down,” Regina ordered.

 

The request was ignored, Henry choosing instead to fling himself at his other mother as she approached the island.

 

Emma caught him with ease, lifting him over her head like an airplane and spinning him around and around and around until he was giggling so hard he was gasping for air. She set him back down on the stool carefully, mussing up his hair and kissing his forehead before she said, “Now listen to mommy and sit. You know you're not supposed to stand on chairs.”

 

Henry dropped back into a seated position with a plop.

 

“How was your shift?” Regina asked. Emma had been a deputy with the Storybrooke sheriff’s department for almost four years now, which meant occasional Saturday shifts like today.

 

“Good,” Emma nodded. She patted Henry’s head once more and then she moved around the counter. She leaned in, kissing Regina chastely on the lips, but her eyes were distracted by the cake on the counter. “What's this?” she asked, even as she reached forward and swiped a finger through the bowl of leftover buttercream that was still on the counter beside the decorated cake.

 

“It’s a cake,” Regina smirked at her, “Do we need to get your eyes checked?”

 

Emma licked the buttercream off her finger, laughing as she went in for another scoop. She waggled her eyebrows at Henry, “A cake? How did we get so lucky?”

 

Henry giggled, “Because it's your special day!”

 

“My special day?” Emma repeated.

 

“Mmhm,” Henry nodded seriously and then he reached forward and grabbed the paper he'd been working on off of the counter, “Look! I made you this.”

 

Emma licked off the latest scoop of icing from her finger and then she reached across the island to take the sheet of paper from Henry. “Oh wow,” she said, her fingers tracing the image on the paper - it was three stick fingers clearly meant to represent the three of them with all kinds of hearts drawn around them and the words _Happy Not Sick Day_ scrawled in Henry’s five year old block print across the top and _Love Henry_ scrawled on the bottom. “This is great kid,” Emma beamed at him.

 

Henry beamed back, “Mommy helped with the words.”

 

“Oh really,” Emma smiled, moving over to the fridge so she could put the picture up with a magnet, shuffling a few things around so that there was room.

 

“Mmhm,” Henry bobbed his head up down.

 

Emma returned to the island, dipping her finger into the buttercream bowl once more.

 

Regina swatted at her hand playfully, “You're going to ruin your dinner.”

 

Emma shrugged, “But it tastes good.”

 

“I want some too,” Henry chirped from his seat.

 

Regina quirked a ‘look what you've done now’ eyebrow at Emma, no words necessary. Henry had enough energy without being fed straight buttercream.

 

Swallowing her latest scoopful of buttercream, Emma didn't respond to either of them. Instead she suddenly looked green and her hand flew to her stomach. “Uhh…” she groaned out, “be right back,” and with that she rushed out of the room.

 

“Where’s mama going?” Henry frowned, his little brow scrunching up.

 

Regina had pretty good idea where Emma was going. “I think,” she told Henry, “that all of that frosting might have upset mama’s stomach.”

 

“Oh no,” he frowned again with all of the seriousness a five year old could muster.

 

“It's okay,” Regina reassured him, her hand brushing against his shoulder as she rounded the island, “I’ll take care of her.”

 

Henry nodded seriously, “Good. You're the best taker carerer.”

 

Regina laughed, “Thank you for the vote of confidence Henry.” She kissed the side of his head, telling him, “Stay here and colour another picture,” and then left the kitchen to find Emma.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina checked the downstairs bathroom first but didn't find Emma there. She flew up the stairs quickly after that, moving with purpose through the master bedroom into the master bathroom.

 

Emma was hunched over the toilet and Regina hurried closer, gathering hair that was falling every which way and holding it back with one hand, rubbing Emma's back with the other, as Emma continued to expel the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

 

When the retching finally diminished to dry heaving and then to nothing Emma righted herself and Regina dropped Emma’s hair so that she could retrieve a washcloth.

 

Regina rinsed the washcloth in the sink with warm water, she also filled a cup they kept on the vanity with a little bit of cold water, and she moved back over to where Emma was now sitting with her back against the wall. Regina handed Emma the washcloth, still holding onto the cup as she slid down the wall to sit beside Emma.

 

Emma wiped her face carefully with the warm washcloth and then she traded the washcloth for the cup of water Regina was holding.

 

Regina reached up to tuck a piece of a stray blonde hair behind Emma's ear. It had taken the better part of three years for it to grow to be shoulder length but Emma’s hair was now very close to the way it had been when they’d first met - even if it had grown back thinner and curlier and a light brown colour that Emma complained about constantly. Around the one year mark, Regina had dragged her to a salon to have it highlighted blonde, something that Emma had kept up with since.

 

“Better?” Regina asked once Emma had finished swishing around and swallowing the mouthful of water she'd taken.

 

“Mmhm,” Emma nodded, setting the cup down beside her on the floor. She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes, “You know...It's kind of ridiculous that I made it through six months of chemo without puking once...and now...that's the _third_ time I've been sick today…” Emma sighed softly, her eyes fluttering back open and a hand resting gently, almost protectively, against her abdomen.

 

Regina set a hand on Emma's knee, “I'm sorry.”

 

Emma shook her head, looking over at Regina, “Don't be sorry. I'm not sorry.” The hand on her abdomen rubbed slow circles, “Little pea is worth it…” she smirked slowly, “and someday I'm just going to hold all of this puking over little pea's head.”

 

Regina laughed lightly, her heart doing the happy fluttering thing it always did whenever Emma said _little pea_. She leaned over and kissed Emma's cheek, her hand moving from Emma's knee to rest on top of the hand covering Emma's abdomen, “I still can't believe that this is actually happening,” Regina murmured.

 

Emma smiled wistfully, bright green eyes shining with emotion, “I know.”

 

Emma had stayed in menopause for six months following the end of her chemo treatments and, even then, they hadn't really been sure about the status of her fertility. It was something that they hadn't talked about for the first few years. Not when the possibility of a relapse was still looming, still too terrifying, to consider expanding their family, especially not in a way that could potentially leave them with an impossible decision to make. But then, time had passed, and their security in Emma's continued status as cancer free had grown,  and the night before Henry had started kindergarten, as they laid in bed and reminisced about how their chubby cheeked baby had grown into a school-aged child, Emma had said in an almost a whisper, “What if we have a baby?”

 

It had taken four tries, and they’d been starting to consider the possibility that it wasn't meant to be, when, just seven weeks ago, Emma had stepped into the bedroom from the bathroom, her hands shaking as she’d held out the positive pregnancy test for Regina to see. Regina had been so happy that she'd cried.

 

They hadn't told anyone else their good news yet, not even Henry. They wanted to wait a few more weeks to be sure before they told everyone.

 

Regina kissed Emma's cheek again, “Ready to get up? I'm getting much too old for sitting on bathroom floors.”

 

“Oh yes. You’re ancient,” Emma said sarcastically with an eye roll, laughing as Regina shoved her shoulder.

 

Regina stood with a groan and then helped Emma up off of the floor, who moved over to the sink to brush her teeth. 

 

Emma ran a hand through her hair, as they stepped into the bedroom, “I'm just going to change out of these work clothes.”

 

Regina nodded, deciding to wait for Emma instead of heading immediately downstairs. She moved over to sit on the edge of their bed as Emma unclipped her deputy badge and set it on the dresser. Emma tugged her shirt over her head and disappeared into the walk in closet.

 

While she waited, Regina fiddled with her wedding rings, twisting them around, thinking about how she couldn't believe that it had been almost four years ago now that they'd gotten engaged. That day, the day of one of Emma’s post-chemo checkups, Regina hadn't suspected a thing. Emma had been so clearly nervous all morning but Regina had chalked that up to nerves about going to the cancer centre - Emma didn't like to talk about it much but Regina knew that, even now, setting foot in that building made her uneasy.

 

In the elevator on the way up to the hematology clinic, Emma had kissed her, but even that hadn't made Regina suspicious - they often kissed in elevators when they were alone, it was kind of their thing ever since that time Emma had said that it was the way to get someone to love you forever. Actually, what _should_ have been suspicious was that the kiss had been short.

 

Emma had pulled back long before the elevator had reached the hematology clinic floor, resting her forehead against Regina’s and saying, “Have I said thank you? For this?”

 

“For what?” Regina had asked.

 

Emma’s expression had been soft and wistful, her eyes shimmering with emotion, “For giving me some of my favourite memories in a place that would otherwise contain nothing but a bunch of my worst.”

 

“You don't have to thank me for that,” Regina had smiled, their foreheads still pressed together.

 

Emma had just stared at her a long moment and then had said, “Marry me.”

 

“Okay,” Regina had agreed easily. She hadn't realized it was a real, planned, proposal though until Emma had pulled the ring out of her pocket.

 

The elevator doors had dinged open then and Regina had reached over and slammed the closed button without so much as a second thought, kissing Emma deeply before the doors had even finished reclosing.

 

They'd been married four months later at town hall with year-and-a-half old Henry as their tiny ring bearer. Emma had been beautiful in a delicate lace dress with a crown of flowers in her short hair. Regina had worn her own hair piled atop her head with tendrils of curls spilling out to frame her face. The updo had complimented the low swooping back of the dress she'd chosen perfectly - Emma had been rather appreciative of her choice. They'd put Henry in the most adorable three piece suite Regina had ever seen. Pictures from their wedding day still remained among Regina’s favourites of the three of them.

 

The reception had been in their own backyard, hundreds of twinkling lights crisscrossing overhead and a dozen lanterns transforming it into something magical. It had been an intimate affair - there had only been a handful of guests - Kathryn and Frederick, Granny and Ruby and Ruby’s girlfriend Dorothy, August, Barbara, a friend Emma had made at the Sheriff’s department and his wife, and Regina’s mother.

 

Regina hadn't been sure about inviting her mother, even though by that point things between them had been patched. Regina had never been great at forgiveness, she'd always been much better at holding grudges - she'd been fully prepared to cut her mother out of her life after she'd found out about the things Cora had said to Emma. Emma though, sweet Emma, had seen things differently. Emma who'd had so little love in her life, and no family before them, had been adamant that cutting Cora out was not the answer, not when Emma had been so sure that Cora’s actions, albeit inappropriate and misguided, had been born out of her love for Regina. Regina had conceded because it had been, and still was, impossible to say no to Emma when she looked at her a certain way. Regina had worried about the wedding though. Worried that her mother would pull something. Worried that her mother was incapable of not meddling. But, in the end, Cora had been impeccably behaved. She'd even made a toast at dinner. Had sounded oddly sincere when she'd said she was thrilled to have Emma as a daughter in law and that she was so proud of Regina and the beautiful family she'd created. Lately Cora had even given up pestering Regina about running for congress. Maybe later in life Regina would re-entertain the possibility but, for now, Regina was content as mayor of Storybrooke and as wife and mother.

 

“ _Hey_.”

 

Emma's voice startled Regina out of her thoughts. She was surprised to find her wife standing right in front of her, dressed in clean clothes.

 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Emma smiled at her.

 

Regina smiled slowly, “About how happy I am that you're my wife.”

 

Emma lifted her eyebrows, “Oh really?”

 

“Yes,” Regina nodded seriously, the smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

Emma moved even closer, leaning down and cupping both of Regina’s cheeks with her hands, crashing their lips together.

 

Regina moaned into the kiss, reaching up and looping her arms around Emma's neck, tugging gently until Emma got the hint and pushed Regina back onto the bed, climbing up beside her, barely breaking their kiss as they shuffled backwards towards the head of the bed, lying side by side, their bodies pressing tight to each other, legs tangled together.

 

After several minutes, Emma pulled back, breathless, her forehead resting against Regina’s as her lungs struggled to take in air. Green eyes stared directly into brown ones and Emma murmured so soft and so reverently, “I love you.”

 

“I love you,” Regina repeated back to her, one hand stroking Emma's cheek gently, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

 

“Can you believe that five years ago we were sitting in a cancer centre?” Emma shook her head without pulling her forehead away from Regina’s, looking truly disbelieving.

 

“Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago,” Regina said seriously.

 

“Yeah,” Emma agreed pensively.

 

Regina stroked Emma's cheek gently again. After a beat of silence, she offered softly, “Happy cure day, darling.”

 

“ _Cure day_ ,” Emma repeated quietly, still sounding almost disbelieving but she smiled so softly, her eyes shimmering with so much emotion and so much happiness.

 

Emma pulled back just enough so that she could kiss Regina gently, and then not so gently as one hand tangled into dark hair and the other slipped under Regina’s shirt. The upward path of Emma's hand was interrupted though, it's movement stilled by the sound of a soft voice coming from the hallway.

 

“Mommy? Mama?”

 

Emma pulled her hand out from under Regina’s shirt, kissing Regina’s cheek and whispering, “later,” in her ear like a promise, and then sat up on the bed, straightening her shirt and running a hand through her hair. She watched Regina do the same before she called out, “What's up monkey?”

 

Henry pushed the partially closed bedroom door open and bounded into the room, stopping at the edge of the bed, looking up at his mother's with wide eyes. His eyes settled on Emma, “You okay mama?”

 

Emma smiled gently at him, “Yeah,” she nodded, reaching down to help him climb up onto the bed.

 

He clamored up, settling between his mother, his little body fit snugly between them. “You were taking _forever_ to come back,” he sighed exaggeratedly with all of the seriousness of a five year old.

 

Emma chuckled lightly, ruffling his hair, “Sorry buddy.”

 

“It's okay,” Henry said seriously.

 

“What a relief,” Emma said faux-seriously, smacking a wet sloppy kiss to his cheek.

 

“Mama!” he shrieked, giggling as he wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand.

 

“What?” Emma waggled her eyebrows at him, “You don't like kisses?”

 

“Not kisses like _that_ mama,” he said, half-giggling, half-exasperated.

 

“Like what?” Emma feigned a lack of understanding, meeting Regina’s amused eyes over the top of Henry’s head momentarily, before she pressed another slobbery kiss to Henry’s cheek, “Like that?”

 

“Mama!” Henry cried out, trying to squirm away from her but not getting very far since Regina was on his other side, preventing his escape and allowing Emma to press yet another kiss to his face. “Mommy,” he looked to Regina for help then, “Make mama stop it.”

 

Regina barely managed to keep a straight face as she said, “Stop what?” and leaned over to press a slobbery kiss to the cheek nearest her, “Stop that?”

 

“Mommy!” Henry shrieked and then he was being attacked from both sides. Kisses pressed to every inch of his face and hands tickling his sides and he just giggled and giggled and giggled.

 

Emma was laughing too, the sound mixing with Henry’s giggles and Regina couldn't help but think it sounded like music to her ears.

 

This was her family. The family she'd never even imagined could come from a volunteer position she'd taken what sometimes seemed like a lifetime ago.

  
She was so lucky. _They_ were so lucky.


End file.
